If At First
by chezchuckles
Summary: COMPLETE Set in the One and Done? universe. Post 3x19. Castle asks Beckett for some parenting advice; a plot from within threatens Castle's position as Beckett's shadow.
1. Chapter 1

Kate Beckett decided that Remy's might be okay. She was starving and movie theatre popcorn wouldn't hold her until tomorrow morning anyway. So when the lights went up and Castle's exuberant face beamed at her, she rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"All right, Castle. Remy's for burgers."

"Yes! I'm starved," he whined and hopped out of his chair, darting for the aisle.

Kate followed his bouncy gait back to the lobby of the old theatre, taking in a last, deep breath of stale popcorn, butter grease, and damp red velvet curtains. Castle turned back to her with that trailer-sized grin (extra wide), and struggled with his coat as he chattered about the movie.

"I mean, think about. You're Altaira, you're a 19 year old girl (I know it's been awhile but use your imagination), and you've only got your father and Robby the Robot for company. _Of course_, finding three strange men is going to be like discovering another planet to you, like discovering three new planets, really. So it's just as much a case of Forbidden Men as it is Forbidden Planet, right?"

Kate spared him a glance as she put on her leather jacket, shrugging her shoulders into place, scraping her hair off her back. She wrapped a rubber band around the mass of it twice and watched his eagerness with suspicion, but warming up her own arguments.

"I think it's more about the Forbidden places in men's minds," Kate said, shoving her hands into her pockets and preparing for the cold air waiting for them outside. "Dr Mobius brought the monster on himself, on his own people, because he couldn't bear to face reality. But faced with the death of his daughter, himself, and he accepts that this creature is a piece of him, it kills him. The forbidden places in our minds. . ."

"Yeah, but wasn't Leslie Nielsen hot?" Castle grinned and took her elbow as he wound his scarf around his neck, then pushed open the door for them both.

With a huff of surprise, Kate startled in the relatively warm night air. She withdrew her hands from her pockets, causing Castle's hold on her arm to slip, his fingers tangling in hers. She squeezed his hand and held it, keeping him in place even as he began to walk off into the night, heading for Remy's.

"He had some appeal. I'll give you that." She waited a beat, waited until he had turned back around and stilled somewhat. "You'd already seen it."

He gave her a well-rehearsed innocent look, a hand to his chest in polite disavowal. Kate scowled at him, and he crumbled.

"Okay, yes. Actually, I wanted to take-"

Kate hitched in a breath-

"Alexis, but she bailed on me. Mother is totally over my fascination with this movie and threatens bodily harm or damaging shopping sprees whenever I bring it up."

And let out a sigh. "You could've just told me, Castle."

"Would you have insisted I come? Dragged me out here? Paid for my popcorn?"

"No."

"There you go." He raised both eyebrows and brought their hands up between them, squeezing. "Now, Remy's. I can spring for dinner, and you can scold me when we're well-fed."

* * *

><p>Sitting down to a turkey burger with guacamole and organic swiss cheese, and sweet potato fries fresh from the deep frier, Kate took a deep breath of her better-late-than-never dinner and smiled like an angel at Rick Castle. The writer smiled back, probably less than saintly in appearance due to the five o'clock stubble now working on its sixth hour, and thanked the waitress for them both. His own meal, a black bean and beef burger with a wedge of pepper jack cheese pushed into the middle of the patty, a basket of seasoned fries, and a beer was already sending up signals of its own to his half-full stomach.<p>

He'd had popcorn and M&Ms during the movie, offering to share with Beckett but not actually sharing much. Kate had a handful and nothing more. As she used a thumb to swipe guacamole from the corner of her mouth, Castle remembered her comment on the forbidden places of men's minds.

There was something to that. And speaking of-

"Hey, I have a hypothetical for you, as a police officer."

"Detective," she insisted, and took another mouthful.

"Detective," he submitted and watched her throat work, the long, tall pillar of her throat.

Castle shook his head. "Okay, so here's my hypothetical. Say a 17 year old girl is out with her group of friends at a trendy boutique in Brooklyn. The friends all decide to shoplift, even though the 17 year old girl does not-"

He paused, watched her swallow hard and wipe her mouth. Kate's face had gone from thoroughly satisfied to stark and uncomfortable by the time he had managed to set the stage.

"Castle, as an officer of the law, I am sworn to uphold the law."

He nodded. "I know, that's why I'm asking you this."

She frowned at him, the furrow between her eyebrows deepening with every second. "Castle. If I hear of a crime being committed, a crime having been committed, or a crime about to be committed, I am sworn to uphold the law. I don't get a choice in that. Do you understand me?"

Castle blinked, digesting both the black bean burger and her sudden, deadly stillness. "Yes?"

"I don't think you do."

"I do. I'm just saying, this is hypothetical. A for instance."

"I saw Alexis talking with you in the hallway earlier."

Castle frowned and tilted his head, leaning back in their booth to reevaluate. "Just a for instance. Nothing to do with Alexis."

She frowned back and looked down at her plate. "Castle-"

"I need your help on this, Kate. I just want some advice. On a hypothetical. Just-you know-what if. Say it's for a book."

She didn't say go ahead, but she wasn't stopping him either.

"Okay, so the friends have shoplifted, but the 17 year old takes money from her savings account and comes back to the store some time later. She leaves it on the counter with a note explaining what happened."

"With a note?" Kate's face was still that bleached, uncomfortable white.

"Yes."

"If this hypothetical store owner chooses to press charges, the note is an admission of guilt. It will be entered as evidence. It will have fingerprints, Castle."

"No, no, no. This isn't what I'm asking."

"What *are* you asking?" Kate lifted her head up to glare at him.

Castle was miffed at her attitude, but plowed through. "This hypothetical girl says it'll never happen again. But she won't tell me which friends she was with, who did it. And I don't want her hanging out with those girls anymore, but how can I enforce that when I don't know who they are? On one hand, I'm really proud of her for taking responsibility for actions that weren't even her fault to begin with-"

"Castle," Kate barked. Her right hand slid out of sight for a moment, then reappeared with her shield resting in her palm, both laid out on the table like an offering. Kate's thumb covered part of the shield so the light wouldn't glint off it and draw attention. "Castle, look at this. I am a police officer. I arrest _criminals_."

"Alexis is NOT a criminal," he hissed, leaning in close to her. "She didn't do the stealing; those girls did."

"While she stood there! Accessory." Kate clenched a fist around her shield and shoved it brutally back into her pocket. "You can't tell me this. I don't get to make a choice on this one, Castle. What happened to hypothetical?"

Castle leaned into her space, defensive of his daughter, a little bit scared for his daughter too. "Back off, Beckett. I'm just asking your advice. I just wanted to know what I should do about her not being willing to narc on her friends. I mean, I'm *glad* she didn't squeal on them."

"This system is about punishing crime. When you do something wrong, something bad happens to you. It doesn't work without squealers, Castle, and you know it. Without witnesses, without tipoffs, without snitches-"

"I'm not looking for a police state here." Castle huffed at her and leaned back against the booth again, conscious of a great and grief-filled anger rising up in her, helpless to understand it. "I'm not the Gestappo. Or, how about this, Minority Report? We don't arrest people just in case they might commit a crime. These girls were wrong, but Alexis-"

"Castle, dammit, not another word!" Kate sprang up from the booth, her face flushed. She grabbed her wallet and yanked out a twenty dollar bill, throwing it on the table.

Furious himself now, feeling wounded as well, Castle grabbed her wrist and held her there (though she could have broken every bone in his left arm if she'd really wanted to get away). "Kate," he insisted, incredulity in his voice warring with exasperation.

When she met his eyes, there were glimmers of angry and frustrated tears that made him drop her wrist, lean away from her.

"You don't get it Castle. Every word that comes out of your mouth, every detail of this supposed story-it compromises my integrity. I won't do that for Alexis; I won't do that for you. With this job, sometimes my integrity all I have left."


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett tugged on the chain around her neck as she walked up to her building. No doorman, no glass lobby, just an ordinary, ugly building scraping for space between more ugly, ordinary buildings. A security door and then a front door into a cramped little lobby; no elevator, just four flights up. She dug her key into the lock with an eye to the sidewalk traffic, then unlocked the heavy wooden door and stepped into the vestibule.

It smelled like stale urine, but she'd grown used to it after those first few weeks; after all, the smell was prevalent enough at her job that it wasn't exactly a novelty. Now it smelled like urine again, a fresh assault on her senses. One night spent rubbing shoulders with New York's elite crowd, coming back to Castle's loft, and suddenly the things she had weren't good enough anymore. Kate sighed.

The black and formerly-white tiled entrance hall held the address numbers and street name worked into a mosaic at her feet. She scuffed her boots against the mat at the lobby door and switched keys. When Kate was certain the security door had closed and locked behind her, she unlocked the final door into the lobby.

Where it smelled like wet dog. Lovely. Better than dog urine, she supposed. The rows of mailboxes to her left gave off an odor of mildewed paper and unpolished brass; the carpet had been replaced recently, but laid over the old; the eco-friendly light bulb in the ceiling fixture (which *was* beautiful, she could admit, with its bronze base and stained glass shade) didn't give off enough light to actually see. She gathered her mail-circulars, flyers, ads, and a phone bill-and began the heavy, late evening walk up.

It was eleven, her stomach still growled from being woken up to eat and only getting half a turkey burger, and now the smells in her own, middle-income apartment building were making her nauseated.

How had she let Castle get to her?

It wasn't really him; she knew that. It was the fight with Josh about stupid international politics (he was headed to Egypt, for crying out loud), the fight with her Captain this morning about a case (Castle had deemed 'too boring' to work on it himself), and then to cap off what should have been a good night with a stupid hypothetical situation that she *knew* was about Alexis-it was too much. She was a homicide detective, not Dear Abby. It wasn't her job to soothe his parenting guilt. She'd thought it was wrong to violate Alexis's privacy with that stupid phone app, and she had told him that, one daughter sticking up for another, but now he wanted to ask her if it was okay for Alexis to be an accessory to a crime?

What did he think the answer was going to be? Who did he think she was?

How many cases had she worked where she hadn't wanted to arrest the suspect? How many times had she had to destroy another family-not just the victim's family, but the killer's as well-all in the name of her job? When the grandfather had shot his son-in-law in the name of vengeance, Castle had been in the car with her when she'd gone to arrest him in White Plains. He'd suggested letting it go, turning around and heading home. And she thought she had explained it to him then.

She didn't *want* to do it. It wasn't about that. It was her job; it was her integrity. The law was blind. Either a crime was committed or it wasn't. Kate didn't even get to decide that much; she just had to arrest the suspects as they presented themselves, as the evidence mounted. That meant she slapped the cuffs on grandfathers and 17 year old girls, damaged souls and deranged. She didn't get to choose.

Her world was black and white.

As Kate unlocked her own apartment and stepped into its narrow space, the relief it usually brought was slow coming tonight. The posters and art on her walls, the couple new pieces of furniture mixed with the still smoke-scented old, the photographs in their frames-these things didn't embrace her like they once did. The bedroom was empty; Josh had gone back to his place to pack and then left for an indefinite relief mission to Egypt.

Yes it bothered her. Yes, she sometimes drove into White Plains and cruised the block where the grandchildren still lived with their grandmother, hoping to assure herself that they were all right. Yes, she contacted child services every year to check on the boy whose only parent she had sent away. She took a collect call from the women's prison whenever it came through, just to hold an irrational conversation with the first woman she'd ever tricked into confessing. Yes, she felt the sting of those consequences too often, felt how unfair life could be to the people whose only mistake had been in making the wrong choices.

But she couldn't change those things. She had done her job.

* * *

><p>Castle stewed for a good week on it. He was indignant that Kate had called Alexis a criminal, and he was frustrated that what was supposed to have been a nice evening had been ruined by her walking out. Just because they hadn't agreed on where that conversation was going, didn't mean she had to run off. But Beckett liked to run.<p>

Alexis had gone back and paid for those things. He was proud of her. But at the back of his mind, he was afraid for her. He wanted to know who those girls were. Now every time Alexis said she was hanging out with friends, he wondered if it was _those_ friends, wondered if Ashley had been there and been involved, wondered if his daughter would be put in the same situation again. She'd said, "It won't happen again," but she couldn't control other people.

Rick told the guys at the station he was writing this week, turning in some edits that the publisher needed. And he was, but he was also sitting in his comfortable leather chair, feet propped up, laptop ready, and brooding. His daughter had done the right thing. His daughter was a good girl. Usually, Beckett the was the first one to her defense-

Castle growled and shoved the laptop to the floor, got up out of his chair, and started pacing. Beckett had texted him earlier that they were waiting on crime scene results for their 'boring' case, so _don't bother coming in_. He hadn't planned on it anyway. Fine. Be that way.

He knew he was starting to sound petulant, even in his own head. He was irritated; he hadn't seen Beckett since the night of the movie a week ago, and his overactive imagination was providing him scenarios in which his daughter got trapped by some nefarious mob of paparazzi at the exact time her friends decided to shoplift again.

And that was the issue, wasn't it? Alexis's friends had shoplifted like Lindsey Lohan wannabes. Had they not been witnesses to Winona Ryder's very public shame? Castle supposed that teenaged girls were going to act out, even if they didn't see the risk, or because of it maybe, but the issue of his own limelight put an entirely different spin on things.

Alexis, out of all of them, could have gotten into very big trouble. Trouble that not even his money might have saved her from. Trouble that his money might actually exacerbate.

And now he'd gone from burning mad to coldly desperate. Whatever Detective Beckett's point might have been last week at Remy's, it had brought him to this:

Alexis was playing with fire by hanging out with these girls. And Castle didn't have a clue what to do about it.

* * *

><p>Beckett was ambushed at the Crown Vic.<p>

Even though it was the basement of the department's own parking garage, she pulled her weapon and had cleared her holster before realizing it was just Castle, mournful and distraught Castle.

"What the hell, Castle?" Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kate holstered her service piece and clenched her fist against the coursing adrenaline.

"I need to talk to you." He was leaning against the driver's side door of her car.

"I don't think that's such a great idea right now."

Castle straightened up. "You going to a crime scene?"

"No. Home. Why are you here so late at night?"

"I was waiting on you but I didn't want to-" He pointed up, and she could have sworn he looked embarrassed. He should be. Lurking around the parking garage or sulking at home, not answering her text messages.

"Couldn't brave the bullpen? Man up, Castle."

He shot her a look and she realized, at the same time, that she'd gone too far. She waved her hand, as if to brush the comment away, and really looked at him. He was in jeans and a green tshirt, some kind of emblem distressed on the front; maybe a bike company, she thought. He hadn't shaved today. His throat worked convulsively as she gave him the once-over.

"I need your advice, Kate. I don't know what to do. The more I think about it, the more it worries me."

He said it so softly that she barely heard him; his voice lost in the echoing concrete. It was cold down here and her left arm was loaded down with her laptop, a couple of cold case files, and her jacket. She didn't want to do this; she wanted him to figure it out on his own. She couldn't be involved.

"Get in the car, Castle."


	3. Chapter 3

Rick was just so grateful to her that as soon as his seat belt was in place and her stuff was stored in the back, he clammed up. He couldn't begin to broach the same topic that had made her so mad at him last week. He didn't want to ruin this. But it was eating away at him.

His fingers drummed the console between them relentlessly until she crushed his fingers with her own. But instead of letting go, she held on. Rick twisted his hand under hers until he could squeeze back, a wash of dizzying relief sweeping through him.

She wasn't _too_ angry then.

She preserved the contact, but didn't look at him as she drove.

"My place okay?" she asked softly.

"That's good." He'd only been to her apartment three times, maybe four. It was nicer on the inside than the out. All of the paperwork and plans and seating charts for her mother's charity benefit were still at her place, spread out over her bare wooden table. But Rick had been over less often to help since Josh had been back in town, though he'd managed to nail down a few details without her.

His personal assistant had helped, of course.

"Kate, I-"

She squeezed his hand tighter. "Can this wait until we get home? I want, I need to drive."

He squeezed back, his heart pounding, and nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. _Home. _There were so many things in that word that appealed to him, called to him. He wanted to fix things, repair whatever was broken in them that made her sad and angry and himself just sad and bewildered. It wasn't just that one conversation; there were things just under the surface that had been there for awhile.

Since last summer, maybe.

Rick let his thumb glide over the base of her thumb where it met her palm, thumb to thumb, the whorls of her skin imprinting on his own. Her hand was cool, light as a bird in his easy grasp. If he made a sudden move, if he got too close, she'd startle and fly away.

"Your mom's scholarship fund is set up. I got the paperwork done earlier this week."

Her fingers contracted around his, maybe involuntarily, and she let her face break into a hesitant smile. The darkness of the city-which was never really darkness, just pockets of neon and ad space crowding out the stars-whirled across her body as she drove. One second, her eyes would be in shadows too deep to penetrate, and the next her whole face was illuminated in harsh yellow, punctuating the sharp angle of her cheekbones and chin.

"I've also gotten the guest list confirmed. My PA shopped around at a couple of different stationary stores and printers, so we'll have to choose the typeset and font for the invites soon."

"Okay. I should have time on Friday after lunch. Our crew has on-call starting at nine that night."

"Can I-We could do lunch if you're not busy, then check out what Adam got for us."

"Your PA is a guy?" She gave him a half-glance, one eyebrow raised, and it made him smile again. It felt good to smile.

"Adam. He's a machine. I swear he never sleeps. He usually deals with my fan mail, book tours, and now the website, but I asked him to do me a few things for this."

"Tell him thank you. And lunch sounds good." Her hand around his loosened a little, but Castle kept it, unwilling to lose this link.

"Good." He didn't want to bring it up, but he felt like he should. He rubbed the ridge of her knuckle. "Josh have plans?"

"In Egypt," she said shortly, and didn't explain.

Rick nodded and soothed her palm with his fingers, carefully not thinking about it. "I'm pretty much done with the chapter edits. I can hang out with you guys at the station."

"No!" she said hastily, a little too forcefully. "No, that's okay. You don't need to be there."

"But you'll call me if a body drops-?"

"I will, Castle; always." There was something fierce in her voice that eased his chest, enough so that he felt he could let her hand go, let her concentrate on driving again. When she did release her grasp, he was comforted by the reluctance inherent in her fingers' soft slide against his.

* * *

><p>"Why are you being so rigid about this?"<p>

Really? Had Castle really spend the whole car ride softly trying to seduce her into forgiving him, and then opened up their conversation like that?

"It's not about being rigid, Castle." She dropped the case files on top of her laptop and took a deep breath before turning around to face him. "Shoplifting is a serious crime. If Alexis is involved, she faces serious charges. And you just laid it out like you deserved father of the year for that."

"She went back to pay for it! I think that's pretty special. Maybe not award-worthy, but-"

"But you're not listening to me. You don't listen to me. I tried to tell you, but you had to keep talking."

"What is this about?"

"It's about your not respecting me."

"What are you _talking_ about?" His face was thunderstruck, like it was the worst insult she could possibly give him. And it might be.

She closed her eyes for a second, rewinding that in her head. She was angry, but mostly she was weary. And she could hear how it sounded. "I told you; I *warned* you, that you can't tell me about a crime. It is my responsibility to-"

"I know all that. Seriously, Beckett, this doesn't make sense. I said hypothetically-"

"Are you kidding me?" She blasted him with a glare that rooted him to the spot. "Using words like that doesn't give you some kind of blanket excuse to do or say whatever you want without consequences. I take so much flak for you, Castle, and you just bulldoze your way right through the whole station-"

"Whoa-whoa. Hold on. You _what_?"

Kate shut her mouth, breathing heavily to regain some equilibrium, furious at herself for letting her control slip.

"Kate. What flak? You mean from the press? I thought-I hadn't noticed any real fallout from that night at the play. She never saw us together."

Kate shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts, trying to decide how much to explain, how much she could give him without hurting him, without hurting herself.

"It's not that. That's not even important." She brushed a hand through her hair and wished suddenly that she hadn't let it grow long, wished she could chop it off.

"Kate."

She nodded at him, understanding that this was cruel, and perhaps a little selfish of her to drag it out. "Captain called me in this morning."

"Esposito said you'd had a fight with him."

"You called Esposito?" she asked, coming to a stop in her kitchen, trying to keep herself from pacing the floor.

"No, he texted me that it might be a good idea to stay away. I asked why."

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what the nature of that text chat had been.

"So. What did Montgomery say?" he asked, stepping closer to her, his hands in his pockets, his face guarded.

"There's been some-some stink about the bomb threat. City council has appointed a review board to look into it. I'm-" She swallowed painfully, and looked down at her hands, wondering why they seemed to have a life of their own, picking at her clothes, rubbing at the countertop. "I've been called in for questioning. Next week."

"But Kate. We saved the city. They can't-you can't be in trouble for that."

"I don't know. They're going to look into everything. I messed up getting us locked in that freezer."

"You didn't do anything wrong. Kate, look at me. You didn't do anything wrong."

She took a deep breath, stilled her hands against the counter finally, pressed her palms flat to the cold surface. "It gets worse. . ."

"How worse?" he said, and this time she could hear the scrape of pain in his voice.

"You can't ride-along with us anymore."


	4. Chapter 4

"That is worse," he whispered and felt his knees give. Rick caught himself on the edge of the kitchen counter, staring at Kate Beckett. She wouldn't look at him, and that scared him. That scared him a lot.

He leaned forward and pressed the heels of his hand into his eye sockets. He tried to breathe. It felt wrong in her apartment, dead, like they were visiting a crime scene.

A thunderstorm was shaking itself awake outside, thunder snapped from sheets of sky. Rick was waiting for her to say something, to say anything, but she was silent.

"How long have you known?" he asked finally.

"Twelve days."

Trust the detective to get the timeline nailed down. Twelve days. Twelve days meant that she knew she'd be called in for questioning before Rick had asked about Alexis. Twelve days meant that when they'd gone out to the movie, shared popcorn and M&Ms, she'd already known that their days together were coming to an end. No wonder she'd invited him.

"Am I-can I come visit?"

"_Castle._"

He lifted his hand and saw her face, wretched and yet so withdrawn from him. She swiped at her eyes with a shaking hand and shook her head at him.

"I can't visit?"

"You are always welcome. Always. Don't ever-don't ditch us."

"I'm not the one doing the ditching," he said, sneering a little. His chest hurt.

"I'm not either!" she hissed, planting her hands on the kitchen counter between them and leaning forward. "This isn't my doing."

"I know. I'm sorry." Her shoulders slumped but she waved off his apology.

"And it's not the Captain either. He fought for you, Castle."

Her head came up to look at him, as if to impress the seriousness of their battle on his behalf, and he met her eyes for the first time. She looked close to tears. He felt sick. He was certain that when they called off the dogs, after this was over, Kate Beckett would be worse off because of him.

"What's going to happen to you?" he asked, holding her eyes with his own.

She shrugged.

"You must have some idea. If they find something to harp on, if they think I should never have been there, they might not care about all the releases I signed."

"I know that."

"So what happens to you, Kate? Your career? As the cop who took a civilian into an ongoing terrorist investigation?"

She nodded, but didn't say it. Didn't say what they were both thinking.

"This is my fault. Kate-"

"Castle. Don't do that."

"Don't do what? Don't feel guilty for putting you in this position? Don't feel bad for being pushy and selfish and getting my way so that I could follow you around for a stupid book?"

She sniffed, her hand swiping at her eyes. "It's not a stupid book."

"Kate, I've killed your career."

She shook her head, causing another tear to break free and escape down her face. "It was my decision, Castle."

And yet she hadn't denied it. "You told me. You told me three years ago what might happen if I didn't watch out. You said you were worried, not about me, but about them. Putting them in danger. The team. I've done that. Every time I go out with you guys, my inexperience-"

"Castle, please don't do this. I've already got to face the review board. I don't need you doubting me either."

He'd killed her career. She was shaking her head, but it was his fault. He knew politics, he'd seen it done before. There was no way she was going to come out clean from this one.

"I always knew, in the back of my mind, that I couldn't do this forever. That the statistics for my getting seriously hurt went up every time I did a ride-along. But I never thought about the chances of you getting hurt because of me-that by pressing my luck-"

"Castle. You've saved my life, more than once. You've been my only back-up, and we've both come out alive. I trust you. I trust your instincts *and* your experience. This isn't about anything real. It's just some politician trying to make the mayor look bad."

He stared back at her, both flattered and frightened by her admission. "I never thought it would end like this."

And then she did cry.

* * *

><p>They sat on the couch just under the windows with their hands wrapped around coffee mugs, neither speaking. Kate leaned her head against the back of the couch, watched the rain being unleashed on her city. She'd never heard Castle so quiet before; she was pretty sure he'd never seen her cry like that.<p>

He was picking at the frayed edges of the throw on the back of her couch; she could see his arm moving out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to reassure him, but the truth of the matter was stark, and black enough to touch. Anything she said now would just be words in a void. The dark day was pressed against her eyes, and it began to leach into her body, taking up residence beneath her skin.

"Will they look at all the cases? Are they going to call everything into question?"

"I don't know, Castle."

"If they start prying open closed cases, cases with convictions, then won't that open up room for appeals?"

"It would. In theory." The dark was a thing on her chest, like drowning.

"Then they might not. Just to keep from having a bunch of murderers appealing-"

"Not if they're trying to make the mayor, the ADA, all of us look bad. They'd want as many appeals as they could. Overload the system. Create some publicity."

"Oh." It was a quiet sound, full of resignation, remorse. She didn't like hearing it.

"It's not you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I-" Castle flailed for an answer, the look on his face heart-breaking. "But I must have."

"I was there, Castle. Believe me, if I had any excuse to ditch you, I would have." The look didn't leave, only grew deeper. "At first. Only at first."

There was some relief now, but trouble cut a path in his eyes. "And now?"

She couldn't answer that. The rain was too insistent for her to think straight. The darkness obscured everything else, even things she knew should have been clear. "Now. We'll see what happens."

"That's not good enough, Kate." He was leaning in close, his expression intense, fighting again. She liked that, even as the warning bell sounded in her guts, liked seeing some fire in him again. "We'll see what happens? Like hell. We're not going to sit back and watch this happen to you. There has to be-I have money. There's got to be resources, avenues, something we can do to protect you."

"I don't need your money, Castle."

"But I need _you_!"

She could see, by that astonishment on his face, that he hadn't known he was going to say it. Why had it not surprised *her* though? It felt like a perfectly natural thing for him to say. It felt right.

"I know," she said, and unclenched her fingers from her coffee mug, lifted her arm from the couch, and snagged one of his hands. Like the car ride over, he flipped his hand so he could grip her fingers back, his gaze focused entirely on that small connection. She wondered if, like herself, it didn't feel like nearly enough.

Something in her felt burdened. Weighted down. She needed it to not be raining, today of all days. She needed sunshine. Or one of his lame jokes. The feel of their hands, his warm palm to her slightly cool one, felt too strong and too heavy for this. She wanted an assurance from him that everything would be fine.

Her fingers trembled. That wasn't a good sign. She had not needed assurances since her father's alcoholism had taken hold of their lives.

She wanted to throw off this pressing force. She wanted it clear between them.

She allowed her eyes to meet his, felt the moment he was actively paying attention to her again-like a lens shifting into focus. She allowed the dark day that was in her eyes come sliding out of her, through her fingers and into his, every drop of it spread across the surface of their tension until she could see the color of her thoughts again. Something had to be said, before it swamped her again.

So she said the only thing she could see. "I don't want to go anywhere you're not."


	5. Chapter 5

The instant the words were out of her mouth, Rick saw panic ripple across her face. She disentangled their hands and got up from the couch, putting distance between herself and her words.

But she had still said them. And Josh was in Egypt. And Rick could very well have ruined her career by insisting on following her around. Only if he hadn't, they wouldn't be here at all; he'd never have known her like this; she'd never, never have given him a chance.

He could see her in the kitchen, pouring her coffee down the sink, her face a mask. That was fine. Let her have a moment to herself. He wasn't going to let this go, not in a hundred years .

After half a beat, Rick stood up as well and took his mug into the kitchen. Coming up behind her, feeling his nerves strung tight (there was a distinct possibility she would be angry with him for this), he reached around her at the sink to pour out his coffee as well. She went very still.

Gathering his courage, Rick put a hand at her waist (be cool, Castle, keep it cool), leaning in so that his lips were poised right above her ear.

He was proud of the rich tenor of his voice when it came. "If you hadn't been able to tell these past three years, the feeling is entirely mutual, Kate." He chuckled, set his mug down in the sink, and moved away, brushing his thumb against the dip of her waist as he did, heading back to his spot on the couch, *forcing* himself to act natural, go slowly, don't rush it.

If he pretended like her comment was a big deal, she'd never come out and play. But if he went with it, let it ride, she'd warm up to him again; her curiosity and strength would get the better of her, and she'd come looking for him.

When he sat down and dared to look at her, she was still at the sink, completely still, but an entirely silly and completely beautiful smile had taken over her whole face. God, she was beautiful.

Her hair had tumbled down to fall in her face; she used a faintly damp finger to brush it back as she put both their mugs in the dishwasher. He could see the smile still, and as her eyes lifted slowly to meet his, he couldn't help the goofy and probably awestruck grin from breaking out on his face too.

"All right, Castle," she said, rolling her eyes. Still smiling, broad and happy. He had made her happy again. He felt so damn proud, he could burst. He felt the absurd need to text his daughter the news: _I made Kate happy_.

His daughter. Alexis was out with her friends this tonight; it was half of what had sent him to the parking garage at the precinct looking for Kate. The shadow of the thought passed over him.

She must've seen it, because the smile faltered. She rubbed at her forehead and came around the kitchen counter to lean against it and look at him. He tried to wipe out thoughts of his daughter; right now, Kate Beckett was facing something a lot bigger than a poor choice of friends.

"I think you should get a lawyer, Kate." He leaned forward on the couch, his arm along the back of it, wanting her closer, but afraid of scaring her off.

She shook her head. "Let's not do this right now. I don't want to think about it."

"Okay," he said slowly, surprised by her attitude. Her denial. She was usually the type to face things head on. "What do you want to do then?"

For a second, Rick could read on her face *exactly* what she wanted to do, and he nearly stopped breathing. Her eyebrow quirked at him in reluctant rejection of that idea, and then she turned and grabbed her keys from the countertop.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

><p>She wasn't nervous. That was the first thing that came to her when they started walking. Her apartment keys were in the pocket of her zippered sweatshirt, the hood pulled up. The rain was more like mist now, and it was warm with humidity. Beside her, Castle walked too close, every other step bumping into her, brushing her arm, crowding her.<p>

She wasn't nervous. This review board, the investigation, was putting things into perspective. She was pissed, she was grief-stricken, she wanted to hurt someone, she was defensive. They wanted to dissect her working partnership with Castle? Fine. But she wanted something for herself; all to herself. She wanted something they couldn't touch.

Kate chewed on her lip, her head ducked to avoid getting rain in her eyes, and let herself enjoy the frisson of his nearness. The next time his body came close (it was just the brush of his elbow as his hands were stuffed into his pockets), Kate snagged his arm, let her fingers slide through the raindrops along the inside of his forearm, down the artery to his wrist, tangling with his fingers.

The hitch in his stride made her lips turn up in a pleased smirk. Castle shifted his hand so that just their laced fingers were hooked into his pocket, their palms warm against each other's, the mist settling into the hollow places.

She wasn't nervous. "Where are we going?"

"Thought you knew," he said softly, and Kate caught the double meaning.

"Mm," she murmured and let her thumb stroke his. It wasn't really an answer, but she didn't have a good one anyway. "No more coffee."

"Never thought I'd hear that out of your mouth."

She chuckled. "First time for everything."

He grinned back, evidently aware of *her* double meaning. "How about dessert?"

"Nope, not my first dessert of the night," she retorted, tugging on his hand. "Cupcakes?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Detective Beckett?" His eyebrows wriggled and then his face twisted into mock pain. "Oh, that was so lame. Did I just say that? I'm a writer; I can do better. Give me a moment."

"Shut up, Castle. Find me a red velvet cupcake."

"Java Hut about two blocks over? I think they've got these little mini cupcakes."

"That works."

Castle took a left at the next intersection; the rain kissed her cheeks and melted down her neck, pooling along her collarbone. She avoided the worst of the puddles because these were expensive heels; Castle seemed to go out of his way to disturb the shiny surfaces. No one noticed them; pedestrians were step-skipping their way through the rain, hurrying to their destinations.

The bank's clock read nearly midnight. Java Hut would close at one, she knew, and maybe they'd go to his place after that. They needed to talk about the review board; she knew that. And Alexis. She didn't want to know; she *was* afraid of what even a hint of favoritism on her part might do to her career right now. But he'd asked for her help.

Halfway down the block, he stopped short. She felt the backward jerk of his hand and waited, expecting a distracted Castle to fumble for his phone to make a quick note. There were always these little moment of inspiration; she'd gotten used to pausing while he took in details or scribbled something down. But when she heard nothing behind her, she turned her head around, a question on her tongue.

Instead, he was looking at her, squeezing her hand tightly in his. His eyebrows were jeweled with rain drops, his bangs flopped wetly onto his forehead. Anxiety was in the twist of his mouth.

She swallowed her question and turned her body to face him, concerned.

"This isn't good enough."

"What? What isn't?"

He gestured with their still-held hands to the rain, the dark street, the city. "Java Hut? No way. This isn't the story I want to be told."

"What are you talking about, Castle?"

"I've spent three years thinking about this. I'm going to do it classy. Do it right. Perfect-"

A bead of rain trembled on his eyebrow and dissolved, a rivulet down the side of his nose. He shook it off and ran his free hand over his eyes to clear his vision.

Kate laughed and shook her head back at him. "It is what it is. We're a block away and I'm not going anywhere else, not just to appease your writer's sense of foolish romanticism."

"Then promise me a make-up. A do-over."

"Are you going to be this high-maintenance all the time?"

"Yes."

She huffed out a breath. "You're such a girl."

"This is news?"

"No." She rolled her eyes and tugged on his arm to get him moving. "All right. A do-over. Within reason, Castle. And inside this city. Don't make me put on a spending cap."

He grinned and stepped closer as she tugged him down the sidewalk. "Deal."

"Now buy me a red velvet cupcake."

"Yes, ma'am."


	6. Chapter 6

Rick Castle watched her lick cream cheese icing from her thumb. Java Hut was humid inside, the windows fogged up. He sat with his back pressed against the glass, absorbing what cold he could from outside, his knees bumping into hers at the small, round cafe table.

She was perched on the edge of her chair, watching the place as she slowly savored every bite of that red velvet cupcake. The half a strawberry garnish was on a napkin between them; she wasn't going to eat it, she said. Smooth whorls of icing clung to the bottom; it was safer to study that strawberry on the table than continue to torture himself by watching her indulge.

He had bought her six of the mini cupcakes; she'd eaten two. He had a medium sized specialty iced coffee, decaf this time, which he sipped at to keep his insides from boiling. He wrapped both hands around the cold drink to keep from touching the hard angle of her knee.

Patience. That was the game. When they'd arrived at the coffee place, she'd hesitated on the threshold, her hand still laced through his. A sliver of doubt on her face. She'd said, "There's still Josh." He was in Egypt; they'd agreed to get back together when he got back in six weeks, see where they were. She'd said, "I'll email him; ask him to call me." He was assuming she meant _so I can break up with him_ but she hadn't said that specifically.

He'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't do this on another man's time. But it was becoming difficult to keep that promise, especially if she was going to turn eating a cupcake into a sensual, erotic dance of tongue and throat. He had to. He must. He'd been cuckolded; he knew the burn of it. And this was Kate. Kate. He wouldn't compromise her integrity in this either.

As she'd accused him of doing when he'd asked for her advice.

So now he sat in Java Hut watching her eat mini cupcakes with deliberation, wishing he could do whatever he wanted to her, with her, but remembering Josh, remembering the review board, remembering the woman in the corner who'd been pointing him out to her friend *I swear that's Richard Castle*, remembering the way Alexis had said _I'm going out with friends; we'll be late._

Remembering Kate, panicked and angry, running out on him at Remy's. Remembering the way her face had looked standing at her kitchen sink, the fall of her hair, the damp spot on her cheek. Remembering the way her fingers threaded through his in the rain. Remembering the spoiled look in her eyes when she mentioned Josh, owing Josh, responsibility to Josh, loyalty to Josh. Remembering (making himself remember) how Josh had been patient with him in the back of the ambulance, patient with him about his proprietary claim on Detective Beckett, patient with Kate's need to be elsewhere for most of their relationship.

He was not patient. He was about to start bouncing off the walls. And if she kept licking icing off her thumb, if she kept her knee pressed into his, if she kept giving him those honest, revealing looks of her eyes-

No. He was going to give her one night of fun, of escape, before forcing her to tell him the rest of the police review details, before forcing her to get representation that *wasn't* on some government salary, before forcing her to talk to him about how much of forever she meant to spend with him. One night.

He squeezed his drink, making the ice crunch loudly against the plastic cup; her eyes drifted to his in mild curiosity, and he just gave her a wan smile.

She self-consciously licked her bottom lip, then swiped a hand across her mouth. "Do I have icing on my mouth?"

She was going to be the death of him. Rick took a moment to make himself release the cup. "No." His voice was thready, paper-thin with longing. "No." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Nothing there. Just-just looking."

"That's still creepy, Castle."

He nodded his head, fully agreeing, but still unable to look away.

* * *

><p>The bag containing the leftover cupcakes was in one hand, leaving the other free to touch him. Kate Beckett liked the way their bodies bumped as they walked, like two boats closely moored at a dock, nudging one another as the waves built. They'd taken a cab ride to a couple of blocks shy of his loft so they could have a few minutes of the misty night before sneaking in the back. Just in case.<p>

A bruised place on her hip flared whenever he grabbed for her. She'd collided with a fire escape a few weeks ago in pursuit of a suspect. The mark was angry and black now, to the bone. He managed to get that spot every time, as if his fingers sought out the angles of her waist like a homing beacon. That and her elbow, a little tug to stop her short, look at a particular window display or a strange sight, like he had a need for handles on her.

Kate smiled, found that her smile was just a deeper crease of her eyes layered on top of a previous smile. The bag was getting moist and heavy in her fingers. She saw the chrome silhouette of his loft rising before her eyes like a refuge. When she thought about his place, she thought about the wide open space of it, a place to breathe, to hide during the worst of the storms.

Castle took the bag of cupcakes from her and texted his doorman as they approached. With her hands free, and her brain in rebellion alongside her heart, Kate looped an arm through the crook of his elbow and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. They stopped about a block away, sheltered in the awning of an office building; Rick reached across his body to press his palm to her ear, holding her there, sighing, both of them soaking in the moment.

She felt the resignation in his act, remembered Josh, but she didn't care. She wanted-

She wanted to do this right. Kate pulled away a little, let go of his arm. His phone vibrated and he checked the message.

"All clear."

The doorman had the glass door open for them when they arrived; Rick ushered her into the elevator. She peeled the bag from his fingers and dug out another cupcake. "I'll want to run 10 miles tomorrow, but these are so worth it."

He chuckled and pinched off half her cupcake, saying "Now just 8 miles," and pushing it into his own mouth, swallowing it before she had a chance to protest.

She gave him a glare. "Cupcake stealing has a high price, Castle."

He grinned and licked his lips. "Yeah, makes me thirsty."

She didn't even have the wits to come back with something clever and cutting; she could only look at the wolfish grin on his face, the line of his nose making shadows over his eye. She wanted to lick frosting off the corner of his mouth and then give it back to him. See how he liked that.

Kate bit her tongue to keep from raising herself up on tiptoes and doing just that. Instead, the elevator doors opened and she stepped off, waiting for him to catch up at his apartment door. When he managed to unlock it, she searched for something distracting to say.

"Martha not at home?"

"She's spending the night at her learning center. She's very proud of it. First night since the contractors were in, fixing things up. She said she needs to break it in the right way."

Kate smiled at the thought. "What do you think breaking it in entails?"

Castle had shut the door behind them and stepped into the living room, so she followed behind him.

"I don't even want to imagine. Probably long monologues about the fickle nature of fate. Weeping. Gnashing of teeth."

She laughed and dropped the bag of cupcakes on his coffee table. "And Alexis? Where's she?"

The shuttering of his face made her wince; Kate ran a hand through her damp hair, pushing it off her forehead, avoiding his eyes for a moment. Yes, she was fearful of anything that even hinted of misconduct on her part right now, but she could allay his fears, right? He just needed some reassurance that he was being a good father.

"I'm sorry, Castle." She came to sit beside him on the couch, letting her hip slide into place right beside his, her thigh alongside his, warm. "I'm sorry. Do you really want to know what I think? Not as a detective, but just as a daughter?"

He was still beside her, as if he would like to not be touching, but couldn't figure out how to do that. Her chest felt too tight as his eyes finally came to rest on her face, studying.

"Yes. Even if-I know you're honest, Kate. You're going to tell me what's right, whether I want to hear it or not."

She wasn't proud of the pain in his voice, as if he expected atrocities he couldn't avert, damage he couldn't undo, all due to her integrity, her careful honesty.

"You're a good father. You want your daughter to not just be happy, but to be a good person who doesn't hurt others. And you've done that-"

"It wasn't me," he interrupted, shaking his head. "She raised herself, practically."

She squeezed his knee to make him shut up for a second. "I don't buy it anymore. Jeez, Castle, you've already spilled the beans about how you got custody of her, why you got custody, how you changed your whole life to be the father she needed. So that doesn't fly anymore." She waited a moment. "Got it?"

"Got it," he said quietly.

"If your instincts are telling you that this group of girls, the ones who shoplifted, are bad news for Alexis, then don't let even Alexis tell you differently." She stopped, trying not to chew on her lip while she debated with herself over how much to tell, how much to leave out. "What if Alexis had gone back to the store and a security guard in the area recognized her? What if the owner had recognized her, and made the connections? What if Alexis hadn't even known these girls were stealing and helped them get away from the store? She could've ended up in real trouble, Castle."

"I know."

"Not just a slap on the wrist. This isn't LA, where starlets are doing it all the time and store owners look the other way. What if-the next time-Alexis is already 18 and they all get caught?"

Castle grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly. "I know."

"Because you know there's going to be a next time."

"Not for Alexis. She wouldn't do-"

"She wouldn't. But those girls will. There were no consequences for them. They got a little thrill, a rush, and it's addictive. They're going to feel empowered in a way teenage girls don't always get to feel. And the next time, they'll be a little more careless, take a bit more risk. The next time, they won't tell Alexis because they don't want her spoiling the fun. The next time, Alexis isn't paying attention and the brand new security guard watching the store, a retired cop, goes in to collar them."

She could hear him swallow hard beside her. "You're scaring me."

"Thanks. I'm trying to. Just like you should scare Alexis. Because it just takes once, Castle. So she gets arrested, and say the paparazzi doesn't find out? Say the cops in that department appreciate what you've done and manage to keep it quiet-all of them. Say Demming goes over there and smooths things over rather than sticking it to you because he finally can. Say the judge is one of your poker buddies and he doesn't recuse himself. Say after all that, she's filling out an application to college and they ask 'Have you ever been arrested for a crime?'"

"Oh God."

"Yes." Kate squeezed his hand a little tighter but kept her detective's composure, organizing her thoughts. "I had a famous defense lawyer for a mother. I was still 15. I was with a boy who had obviously led me astray. I managed to have very minimal damage done to my future, but it was a near thing."

"You? What did you do?" He twisted on the couch to look at her, equal parts humor and horror in his face.

"I drove his motorcycle into a fountain in Central Park. I hit a jogger. I thought I could do it, I'd been watching him do it, but the bike was too aggressive for me. I couldn't control it. I didn't panic, but every time I tried to steer it into something so I could gently crash it, he would panic behind me and jerk on the handlebars, making it worse."

"You still sound defensive," he noted, soothing her with a thumb down her cheek.

She shook that off and frowned. "It could've been a lot worse. I could've really hurt someone. But no one wanted to ruin my life just because my boyfriend wanted me to drive his motorcycle."

"What kind of bike was it?"

"A Ducati."

He whistled, eyebrows raised, and she gave him an acknowledging grimace.

"No one wants Alexis's life ruined because she's doing the loyal thing and not ratting out her friends."

He took a shaky breath in and pulled Kate into a desperate, crushing hug. "Thank you, Kate."

She wasn't sure she should be thanked for that.


	7. Chapter 7

How had she gotten here?

_Again._

She was a glutton for punishment. Or it really was too late to help herself. Kate Beckett was perched on the hood of her Crown Vic about half a block from Alexis's school, her badge in prominent view on her belt, her gun nestled at her waist. Its dark shadow could be seen beneath the navy blazer she wore. The light blue v-neck cotton shirt rucked up a little with her holster, but the overall effect was of a noticeable police presence.

Castle had asked her to scare the girl a little bit. Well, actually, he had said, "Could you go put the fear of God in her?" Only, she was supposed to disguise it like she was having a nice friendly chat, let all Alexis's friends know that Castle had cop friends, like Kate was his trump card. Which, of course, Kate had rolled her eyes at. She had told him no.

She had told him no more than once. And yet, here she was.

She heard the bell toll drolly through the brick buildings and could almost sense the change in atmosphere. The school seemed to wake, stir itself from the spring day's drowse. Kate had texted Alexis that she'd be coming by to pick her up, if that was okay, and Alexis had texted back during her lunch period that she was looking forward to their outing.

Outing. Kate felt like this was too much. It was one thing to meet the girl at Starbucks and cautiously probe her about her boyfriend (for Castle's sake), but it was another to have a talk with her like Kate had any say in it whatsoever. Like Kate could make the rules.

Again, Castle's smooth-talking logic (or really, be honest, it was the desperation on his face that had convinced her): "But she looks up to you. You're her idol. Please, Detective." And the thing was, Kate couldn't help remembering Alexis's honest story about her lack of a good mother figure. A motherless girl was too much for Kate to say no to.

This so wasn't going to work. Alexis wasn't stupid. She wouldn't confess to Kate what had happened at that boutique, but somehow Kate wasn't supposed to reveal the source of her information. "Don't tell her I told you." Right. Alexis was going to figure it out.

Kids began pouring out of the school building like water from a cracked bucket; streams of navy and green and white uniformed boys and girls talking too loudly, laughing too long, affecting whatever behavior might get them noticed or not noticed by the right people. Most of them looked at Detective Beckett long and hard, not disguising their curiosity. Which was understandable, considering Kate had parked in the no parking zone so she could get close enough to make an impact.

A couple boys gave her catcalls, whistles, and Kate quirked an eyebrow at them, but she mostly ignored it. She was the boulder they had to flow around. She'd gotten used to looks, stares; as a police detective, as a woman, both roles created some stir. She was actually going for that effect this time.

And Castle had been right. Alexis was walking out with a large group of boys and girls. She saw Ashley at her side, their fingers hooked loosely together as they walked, but Ash was a step behind her. Kate had already met the boyfriend; her first impression was of thin grace and a weird personality, a little on the morose side for her, but with a definite kindness and sharp intelligence that Alexis seemed especially attracted to. Didn't hurt that the boy *was* cute.

Alexis was talking animatedly to three other girls, while Ashley was comparing notes with a different girl. That studious girl handed her backpack to another boy, who promptly also caught the girl's notebook as it began to slide. Ashley stopped too, causing Alexis to jerk to a halt, and the whole, awkward group of them stopped just short of the gate.

Notes exchanged, Ashley said bye to the boy and girl and then rejoined Alexis and her friends. Kate studied the look on his face and was surprised to find a shuttered dislike spread thinly in his eyes. So either Ashley knew about the girls' behavior, or he just didn't like one of them, maybe all of them. Kate thought she could pick out the ringleader-the willowy girl with too much eyeliner and a uniform top that barely covered her torso. Her backpack looked mostly empty while Alexis's looked ready to burst at the seams.

Kate slid off the hood of her car and planted her feet, waiting a moment until Alexis and her friends noticed, then met them in the middle. Kate realized the reed of a girl was looking critically at Kate's jeans. Detective Beckett's obstinate nature reared its ugly head, but she merely pushed her sunglasses up on her head and gave Alexis a smile.

"Hey Alexis."

"Kate! Hi!" Alexis surprised her by coming in for a squeeze, both arms looped around Kate's waist. The girl stepped back before Kate could recover and took Ashley's hand again. "Thanks for picking me up." She turned and gestured to the other girls. "Kate, this is Lauren, Harper, and Kess. You know Ashley. Guys, this is Detective Beckett."

Kate nodded to them, noting that Lauren was the willowy one. Also, if she remembered right, Lauren was the one who'd pulled a mean-girl stunt on Alexis a month or so ago. She bore watching.

If Kate cared. If this was any of her business. Which it wasn't.

Alexis's eyes flickered over Kate's ensemble, noting the badge and gun, and her eyes grew serious. "Were you in the middle of a case? Dad said-"

"Always in the middle of a case, but I have time for a break." Kate gave her a grin. "Plus, I know where we can get some great cupcakes."

Alexis groaned. "No more cupcakes! Dad had a bag of them at the apartment this morning."

Kate struggled to keep from blushing, grinning, tipping her hand at all, and instead turned to her car. "No cupcakes for you then. You ready?"

"Sure. Bye guys. Ash-call me after practice. I'm going to try to make your lacrosse game."

He grinned and leaned in to kiss her, but his eyes darted to Kate at the last moment, and his aimed switched, landing on Alexis's cheek. Kate fought a second grin while Alexis cast Ashley a perplexed look, but the girl turned to leave with the detective.

"Coffee date, part two," Alexis said with a grin, and slid her arm around Kate's waist for a quick side hug.

Kate was startled again, but managed to gather her wits in time to squeeze Alexis's shoulder. "That's right. And even if you don't want a cupcake, they've got brownies."


	8. Chapter 8

Alexis Rodgers Castle knew the moment she saw Kate Beckett outside Marlowe Prep that something was up.

To be more accurate, she had seen clues all day long, starting with the sound of the door closing this morning around four a.m. and ending with the sight of her father's muse standing like a roadblock only a few yards from the school's front gate.

She wasn't sure what the door closing this morning had to do with Detective Beckett texting her only a few hours later to ask if she wanted to go for a second coffee date (well, Beckett had not said second date. Beckett had said, 'Can I pick you up from school today and then we can go hang out?'). But the two events were related. Also, the red velvet cupcakes in the Java Hut bag that were a little crushed but still delicious? (yes, breakfast, but she'd been eating oatmeal every morning for weeks now). Her father's face when she'd discovered them and asked to eat them-

that told her something as well.

These events were related; she just didn't know how.

But she was going to find out.

Alexis sat in the police-issue vehicle and tried to appear relaxed. But she was nervous. The seat had a funny spring in it that dug into her leg; but more than that was the whole scene outside her school. When she had introduced Lauren and the rest to Detective Beckett, something had gone on there.

A look. A current to the air.

And even now, Beckett was edgy. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel; she changed lanes aggressively; she was chewing on the inside of her bottom lip every so often. Alexis had an eye for people's moods; she had to be good at it with her mother, with her grandmother's crazy friends, even with her own father. All of the people in her life were passionate and sometimes extreme. Alexis alone was the centered, calm one.

She had thought Beckett was the same. Beckett *was* the same. Just not right now.

When the detective pulled the car into a funky parallel parking job (wow, that was tight; Beckett had skills), Alexis got out with her wallet and keys on her wrist and followed the woman down the street. They had only driven for six or eight blocks, but Alexis was already far past her usual places. She wasn't sure where they were going.

"Voila," Beckett said and opened a glass door to a small, heavenly-scented shop. "Dylan's Candy Bar."

"Ohhhh," Alexis breathed it in as she walked inside. The white countertops were lined with old-fashioned or retro candies. Glass display cases brimmed with colorful and specialty chocolates. A stand by the door held a rainbow of lollipops and rock candy sticks while a white vase just inside featured long-stemmed chocolate roses on top of a shelf of mother's day items in pink gift baskets. The fixtures were all white to set off the riot of vivid, beautiful candy colors.

"This is the best place ever," Alexis whispered, immediately drawn to the gift baskets along the far wall, overflowing with Swedish fish, warheads, sugar daddies, pop rocks, blow pops, smarties, Junior Mints, and more. "Dad would love this. Has he been here?"

"I've never taken him. I don't know."

Alexis turned with a brilliant smile and went back to where Beckett stood in the aisle. "Will you let me show this place to him? I mean, it's your discovery, but I so want to be there when he sees it!"

Beckett's face rippled with something that Alexis couldn't identify, but she nodded. "Of course. Actually, I'd like to be there too, so how about when we're done, we call him to come on over?"

"Oooh, good idea!"

"Want to sit at the bar?" Beckett said, and gestured to the low counter at the back of the store. Red barstools with round seats were bolted to the floor in front of a long, black and white-tiled bar that looked to be serving all kinds of sugary things. A sign above the menu read 'What's Your Flavor?' and below that everything was categorized: sour, chocolate, bubble gum, fruit, licorice, sugar free, assorted, and other.

"Oh my goodness. You said they have brownies?"

"Chocolate covered brownies. Soo good. They have the best chocolate."

"So how do we do this?"

Alexis followed Beckett to the end of the bar and sat down in the last stool, the detective beside her. A waitress in a candy striper's uniform and a ball cap was pointing out various options to the gaggle of kids and parents at the other end.

"Okay, first you figure out what flavor you want from those listed there."

"Chocolate," Alexis said immediately.

Beckett laughed. "Me too. Okay, then you figure out how you want it-candy jar, candy of the month, or mix and match." The detective pointed out the various options as she talked. "Candy jar means you get a handful of one thing, or two things, whatever. Candy of the month is they get to pick for you. Mix and match means you get a couple of a bunch of different things all in a bag."

"This is so cool," Alexis said and leaned forward to view the rows and rows of chocolate behind the counter.

"Here, see this? They tell you everything they've got here." Beckett tapped the counter top and suddenly it woke up, the thick glass pulsing blue for a moment before waking to a pure white, and Alexis was confronted with a screen.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, is that like an iPad in there?" She tilted her head to look at the counter from the side, trying to detect the seam or line of the display. The screen was set behind the glass countertop with the white bar framing it so expertly that she could barely figure out where the computer ended.

"Something like that. You get to use your finger like you do on the iPhone or iPad, so maybe it is."

"This is so cool!" Alexis knew she sounded ridiculous, but it was just the most awesome candy store she'd ever set foot in. "Is this new?"

"Yup. Kinda touristy, I know, but I think it's pretty neat too." Beckett was scrolling through the screen in front of their two barstools, looking at all the chocolate. "Ralph Lauren's daughter started these, and there are a couple more around Manhattan."

"Can I do it?" Alexis asked and sat up straighter in the stool as she watched Beckett moving through the menu.

Beckett laughed. "Of course. All yours."

Alexis took over and watched the delicious-looking photos of chocolates slide by. Chocolate covered cherries, inside out blueberry chocolates, truffles, chocolate mints-

"Chocolate covered Oreos!"

"Those are like super sweet. It makes my mouth almost pucker," Beckett laughed, peering over her shoulder.

"How many times have you been here?"

"Twice. I got the Oreos and the chocolate covered pretzels the first time. The next time I got some chocolate covered fruit. Bananas and blueberries."

"Where is this place at? Do you think me and my friends could walk here from school?"

"We're on Fifth Avenue. Umm, I don't know. It'd be okay, I think. But that's up to your dad."

"Oh yeah, well." Alexis rolled her eyes. "It's not like he really has an idea about what's safe or appropriate for me to be doing. You know, I had to beg him to ground me once?"

Beckett was looking at her intently. "I think he does have an idea, actually. You know, he worries about parenting you. When he's not sure about something, he asks me about it. About what I would think as a daughter if my father did that."

"He does?" Alexis smiled tentatively at Beckett, unsure about that. Her dad talked to Beckett about her? "Is it-is it embarrassing stuff?"

"No! No, it's not. It's just normal stuff."

Alexis wasn't exactly convinced that normal stuff wasn't also embarrassing, but she let that go as she scrolled through the chocolate menu. "Oh my word, I've got it. I want chocolate covered cookie dough. That's it."

"A candy jar? Or mix and match?"

"A candy jar. One flavor at a time. I'm pretty sure I'll be coming back here a lot."

Beckett smiled at her and signalled for the waitress over Alexis's head.

"Actually, Alexis, I kinda wanted to talk to you about your dad."

Alexis tried very hard not to let the mix of smugness and curiosity enter her eyes, only watched quietly while Beckett ordered for them. That was funny too, because she hadn't had an adult order for her since. . .since she was five years old. Her dad was always big about making her speak up and use her own voice, but Beckett was definitely used to be in control.

The detective ordered a chocolate candy of the month, which meant she'd eat whatever they gave her, along with a handful of clodhoppers and then told the woman Alexis's own choice. When the waitress had left and the screen had gone dark in front of them (so now it was the black tile in the pattern, which she thought was a really clever design idea), Alexis got up the nerve to ask Beckett what she'd been thinking all day:

"Are you and my dad dating?"


	9. Chapter 9

When the city council member opened her inside door, Richard Castle stood up with his smoothest smile in his nicest suit. He pressed his tie flat against his chest and came forward with a handshake at the ready.

Gail Connors looked startled for a moment, but she shook his hand and led him inside her office with a welcoming smile. "Mr. Castle. To what do I owe this honor?"

"I'm running down a lead," Rick said with a chuckle.

"Switching genres?"

"No, no," he assured her, sitting in the leather wingback chair she offered. Ms. Connors sat in the one opposite him and crossed her legs. The wine-colored skirt was impeccable and tailored, but the pale pink silk shell held wrinkles acros the lap, indicating Connors long office hours today. He saw his books on her shelves behind her desk. "Not really a journalism kind of guy. I'll stick to fiction."

"So is it a fiction lead you're chasing down then?" Over her shoulder were the requisite framed degrees: a private girls' college, post-grad work at NYU, and then a law degree. Better than most, actually. She carried herself well. In fact, to some degree she reminded him of Kate Beckett. Moneyed, prestigious family, old New York background.

Rick had met the councilwoman about five years ago when he'd sponsored a charity auction to raise money for arts in the schools. Gail Connors had been both warm and precise when she'd spoken with him; he had managed to make her confess that she loved his books, had always been a fan.

"I wish it were fiction. No, actually, I was wondering what you had heard about this review board."

Gail Connors eyed him speculatively, as if she were attempting to figure out all his angles. "Well," she said slowly, and settled back into her chair. "If you mean the one investigating the failure of intelligence in that terrorist bombing, then yes. I've heard."

"Failure of intelligence. That's what you're calling it?"

"In a manner of speaking." Connors made a dismissive gesture, as if that wasn't what was important. "The DA came to us with this; we merely agreed that it warranted investigation. The DA wants to run for mayor. He's going on a hunting trip."

"A fishing expedition, you mean."

"No, Mr. Castle. I mean he intends to come home with a trophy."

Rick swallowed hard and regarded the dark, hard edge in Connors's eyes. "I see. Can you tell me anything about it? I know it's a lot to ask of a fan, but I just. . ."

"It is a lot to ask. No open-ended questions; you know better than that. How about you ask me some specific things and I'll see how much I can answer."

He nodded and rubbed at his chin, trying to organize his thoughts. "Well, first, what are people on the city council saying about this?"

"Can't answer much of that." Connors shook her head. "But there's lot of fear, Mr. Castle. There's a lot of fear. People want to know how a van wired with a dirty bomb could have gotten so far, how we could have gotten to the point where a last-ditch effort was the only option left for us. You know, don't you, that you got very, very lucky?"

Castle gave her a short nod, rubbing his palm down the arm of the chair, trying not to remember the rush of panic and desperation in that last moment with Beckett. Kate. Oh God, if he hadn't-

"But if it hadn't worked, it would be a much different review board."

"We do realize that," Connors said fiercely. "And while we are all grateful, while you will always be held in deepest regard by the city council, we can't help but ask-"

"Why was I there?"

She nodded. "Why were you there."

He sighed. "Because I asked to say. Because I thought I could help." _Because I couldn't stand to not be with her._

"I know that," Connors said softly, leaning forward as if to impress upon him the nature of her sympathy. "But the very fact that you, a civilian, were riding along on a federal case. . .it just calls into question a host of things. For example, if you are with the detectives when they come upon a suspicious scene, do you get to ignore Miranda rights? Does evidence that you discover count as fruit from the poisoned tree?"

Rick sat silently in the chair. "Those are. . .those are important questions. I get that. Do I get to do things as a civilian that the police officers can't, you mean."

"Yes. It begs the question. . .Will police departments just hire civilians to ride along on every case? Let civilians break the rules to find evidence and force confessions?"

Rick felt anger rise in his chest but stamped it down by digging his thumb into the vulnerable place at the top of his knee. The pain sharpened and turned him back to his point. "You do know the DA is doing this just to make the mayor look bad. The point here, in this case, is that I helped save this city. When that comes out, when the public knows that, how in the world will this turn against the mayor? How does bringing down Detective Beckett do the DA any good?"

Connors blinked and sat back, looking entirely shocked. "What are you talking about? This is about the use of civilians as proxy police officers."

"What do you mean?" Rick sat up in the chair, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

"I mean, What are you talking about? What does the DA have to do with Detective Beckett?"

"She was told that she'd be the main focus of the review board."

"That's not on our agenda."

"You mean, you don't intend to focus on Beckett, or that's not what-"

"No," she said swiftly. "I mean, we have a printed schedule of questions which we have already submitted to the chief of police and the DA. We do plan on calling Detective Beckett, but she is not our focus. This isn't a witch-hunt, Mr. Castle."

Rick sat back and rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. "Excuse me for doubting you, Ms. Connors, but that's not what I'm hearing from a lot of other people."

"How many is a lot?"

"Well, the mayor for one. I went to him first."

"What is the mayor hearing?"

Castle wondered how much of a good idea it was to inform one of the committee chairs about the mayor's knowledge, but figured that Detective Beckett didn't have a whole lot to lose here. "The mayor has it on good authority that the DA is gunning for his job, and that the best way to do that is through me."

"Well, yes, you can see why, right? Nothing personal here, Mr. Castle. But DA Carter wants to make it look like cronyism. Like the mayor is letting his friends hang around dangerous situations just for thrills."

"Right, but by attacking Detective Beckett?"

"Again, Mr. Castle, no one has mentioned Detective Beckett."

"The mayor heard from the DA's aide that he plans to crucify Beckett. Compromise Beckett's honor and integrity on the job so they can go after me."

"That doesn't make any sense. Then it looks like it was all Beckett's fault, and that has nothing to do with the mayor. How does that help the DA?" Connors dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "You're wrong. Your source is wrong."

"What about this? I talked to the Chief of Police not but thirty minutes ago, Ms. Connors. He said that one of the council members told him directly that this was all about Beckett."

Connors frowned thoughtfully and sat back in her chair, as if some piece of knowledge had fallen into place. "The Chief of Police?"

"Yes." Castle watched her and wondered what it was the woman saw. "Why? What do you know?"

"I talked to the Chief myself. Yesterday evening when this whole thing got started. I specifically told him that he didn't need to worry about his team. I specifically told him this was about looking into the policies regarding your involvement with federal investigations. We're going to be reviewing the police's involvement of course, but this is mostly about the way the two sides worked together."

That was almost an entire world away from what Castle had heard. "Is Agent Fallon being investigated?"

"He will be called on. As well as other key members of the team."

"The Chief of Police told me that this was about Detective Beckett. He said, 'I'm afraid they're going to make her look like a fool. Her career is over.'"

"He said what?" Connors stood up and moved anxiously to her desk, shuffling a few file folders until she found what she wanted. "That is just completely untrue. I gave him the list." She held up a piece of paper towards the light, as if about to give it to him.

"I have other sources, Ms. Connors. People are telling me that DA Carter is going to pick apart every word Beckett says. And you know what scares me more? The rules your committee set up leave Detective Beckett without legal representation."

"Well, yes, we do that routinely. It keeps the committee meetings from getting bogged down in legalese. It keeps things moving. This is just like a big debriefing. It's not a trial."

"Everyone but you seems to think it's a trial."

"I'm in charge of it!"

Castle just looked at her, waiting for her to figure out what was going on here. Because it didn't make sense to him.

"Someone's subverted the panel," Connors said slowly. "Someone has put their own agenda into this."

"Carter."

Connors shook her head. "It's not him. I've talked with him. I *know* him. It's not Carter. If anyone should be worried, it should be you, Mr. Castle. He thinks what you're doing is incredibly irresponsible of the mayor. But Carter can't charge you with anything; you'll just have to stop going to scenes with the police detectives. Stop your ride-along. But there is no chance for you to be charged with criminal counts."

"If it's not Carter that's behind this, then who? Who's gunning for Detective Beckett?"

Connors narrowed her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips behind her desk. "The only person that we've both talked to that hasn't told you the truth, Mr. Castle."

Castle stood up, shocked. "The Chief of Police."

Connors nodded grimly. "This is much worse than I thought."


	10. Chapter 10

The moment the question left her mouth, Alexis knew it was the wrong thing to ask.

Detective Beckett's face turned crimson, but her eyes held an edge that seemed aggressive, as if she felt threatened. Alexis's heart beat hard; she knew why people confessed under that look.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought I heard you leave this morning and I just-" Alexis swallowed painfully and grabbed Kate's hands, squeezing. "I wasn't thinking. It's not my business to ask. I just. . .I just know how good you are for my dad, and I want the best for him, and. . ." _And you're the best_.

The detective withdrew her hands and crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were about to make a speech, but the waitress interrupted by placing colorful plastic dishes before them, overflowing with chocolate, and then handed them glasses of water and napkins. The silence was heavy.

Alexis tried to rectify her blunder. "Please don't be mad. Please don't think anything of it; don't take it out on him. Dad didn't say anything to me; I was just hoping, you know? He was really in a funk before he met you. He was kinda whiny." She tried laughing, but Kate wasn't smiling. "He said all the stories had been written before; he was just, you know, just playing around. It was so annoying. And then it was kinda scary. He wasn't my dad anymore. He became the famous writer full-time. That society page guy. Not my dad. I even. . .well, I talked with Grams about moving in with her for awhile, but then Grams lost all her money-"

Beckett stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Hey, no, Alexis. It's okay. You're fine."

She took a deep breath and flashed the detective a grateful but hesitant smile. "Dessert looks wonderful."

The woman nodded and turned to her own plate, checking out what Dylan's had dished up for her. A card placed beside her plate gave her the name of the mystery chocolate. "Triple chocolate ice cream flavored malt balls."

Alexis's mouth dropped open and she leaned forward. "Oh my goodness, that sounds heavenly."

"Try one." Kate pushed her plate over and gave the girl an encouraging smile.

Alexis chewed her lip for a moment, wondering if it was really okay to accept someone else's chocolate when one had just terribly mortified that person by asking deeply personal questions. But she picked one up and popped it in her mouth.

"Oh that's good," she said, opening her eyes again.

Kate laughed and tried one herself. "Mm, you're right. I'm gonna have to get a bag of these for the precinct."

Mentioning work brought Alexis's mind back to her terrible faux pas. She needed to be certain that Kate wouldn't be mad at her dad for that. Or try to get rid of him because Alexis had some stupid idea about them getting together. "You really are good for him, you know. You *are* his muse. He wasn't writing a thing before you."

Kate was still looking at her plate, but she had paused with a clodhopper halfway to her mouth. She cleared her throat. "Nothing?"

Alexis, relieved that Kate was still talking to her, tried to put a cheerful smile on her face. "Nothing. He killed off Derek Storm because he said the stories were all the same. And then I'd find him in his office, sitting with the laptop but not writing anything. He spent a lot of time at parties. It wasn't very pretty."

"Why'd he do that?" Kate said suddenly, and Alexis was surprised to see that she looked angry.

"Go to parties? Well, I mean, I don't really know. I guess because he felt like nothing was going on so he might as well. He wasn't a lot of fun back then, Kate; so maybe he thought it would help him be fun again."

"He wasn't fun? I can't imagine your dad *not* being fun."

Alexis grinned and licked melted chocolate from her thumb. "Yeah, he is pretty crazy. But he'd be mopey one night and then the next he had this devil-may-care attitude. Strutting around the apartment, thinking he's hot stuff. It was soooo embarrassing. He's my dad!"

Kate chuckled. "Doesn't he usually strut around, thinking he's hot stuff?"

Alexis laughed back. "Okay, well, maybe you have a point. But it was getting pretty desperate. I think, mostly, that he was bored. Nothing was fun for him anymore. Not the writing, not the parties, not life in general. The two of us had fun when we did stuff together, but I. . .I couldn't always be there. I had friends, I had school, and he kept telling me that it wasn't my job to entertain him."

"And it's not, Alexis. He was right about that."

Alexis gave her a rueful look. So maybe she *did* still feel guilty for not being more for her dad. And maybe Kate could see right through her. "Thanks. I'm glad you're here. You've definitely made things interesting again."

"Hm," Kate murmured and sipped at the water the waitress had delivered with their plates. "Not sure exactly if that's a good thing."

"It is. You know, Dad always says, 'You can't have fortune without the fame.' That's his favorite thing to say when I'm complaining about the people following me with cameras or when a fun trip gets ruined because he's recognized, or when he's got to take off on a book tour, or when he wants me to come to a press release party and I've got homework to do. Can't have fortune without the fame. And if you complain about the fame, but you're enjoying the fortune-" Alexis sighed and picked up another piece of chocolate, inspecting it before putting it in her mouth. She savored it as it melted on her tongue, then washed it down with a gulp of water. "But it's not easy. It's not always fun. Sometimes I want it to just be gone. I don't even want the fortune part, if it means I can shed the fame."

She picked at the plastic cup with her nail, felt the condensation drip.

"Alexis?"

Kate had put a tentative hand to her arm and Alexis looked up at her, frowning, surprised that she was saying so much, spilling so many secrets. But it was like she'd been waiting for the detective to ask. "I know I'm being really ungrateful. I know I am. But sometimes I really hate it."

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett watched the grief in Alexis's eyes and wondered if it would be like this for her as well. Would she find herself confessing to a friend that yes, she liked to have things, but she couldn't stand it anymore? That Richard Castle wasn't worth this?<p>

"Alexis." Kate took the girl's hand and squeezed it, trying to impart strength and understanding.

"It'd just be easier if my dad wasn't famous. You know?"

Oh God, the burden in those eyes-

Kate reached out with both arms and hugged Alexis tight, squeezing hard, trying to force fierceness and loyalty and consolation through her own skin and into the girl's. "What's going on, Alexis?"

When she pulled back, Alexis brushed tears from her cheeks and gave her a rueful grin. "It's just. It's this girl at school. We used to be friends. I don't understand it."

"A girl at school. Is she teasing you about your dad?"

Alexis gave a hollow laugh and wiped quickly at her face again. "I wish it was that easy. I can ignore that. She's been. . .she's always been boy-crazy, you know. Always. It was funny. We laughed about it. But last year, she got drunk at a party, kept telling the boys she'd kiss them if they got her a beer, and she just kept drinking. I brought her home and Dad called her parents; he totally ratted her out-"

"I think that was probably a good idea, Alexis. Sounds like this girl has some issues."

Alexis shot her an anxious look. "It was a terrible idea. At first, I thought she would hate me for it but it turns out she thinks Dad is like her protector, her knight in shining armor. She kept saying how my Dad was just so cool, how he really made her see that what she'd been doing was beneath her, how those guys were really just boys and Dad, that my Dad was a man-"

Alexis choked up and buried her face in her hands to hide the blush. Kate sat there, stunned, and tried to wrap her head around this. "You mean. You're telling me that this friend of yours has a crush on your dad?"

Alexis nodded behind her hands, then slowly dropped them to stare into her still mostly full plate of chocolate. "It was funny at first. A little bit. I told myself it was funny anyway. But then Lauren brought that list to school. The Most Eligible Bachelors list. She taped it up in her locker."

"Lauren?" Kate remembered the look the girl had given her and things began falling into place. "Wasn't she-didn't she put some mean stuff on a website about you and your boyfriend?"

Alexis nodded. "Yeah. And she said it was because she was trying to break up me and Ashley-"

"And that makes it okay?"

"Well, no. I mean, she wanted to break us up because she missed me. She said she missed our friendship."

Kate snorted but refrained from commenting on that one. Even though, she supposed by snorting, she really *had* already commented, hadn't she? Either way, it wasn't okay. "Does she say stuff about your dad a lot?"

"Yeah. It's become like her thing. Everyone at school knows. They joke about it. They call her Stepmom."

Kate felt her stomach heave. The chocolate taste in her mouth was bitter. "She's your age."

"She said as soon as she turns 18, watch it. She said I'd better leave the door open for her at night. She said-"

"I get it," Kate said suddenly and ran a hand through her hair. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to get *that* image out of her brain.

"So when. . .so when I heard the door close this morning, and then you texted me about meeting together, I guess I hoped it would be because you and Dad. . ."

Kate looked up at Alexis, gave her a sad smile. "What? You want me to take your dad off the market?"

Alexis at least had the decency to blush. "That sounds really childish when you say it like that. I'm sorry. It was wishful thinking."

"Have you told your dad about Lauren?"

"That she's got the hots for him? No! Never." Alexis shuddered. "He'd be mortified; *I'd* be mortified. He'd probably try to laugh it off. But I think it would really bother him. He knows that I'm uncomfortable with his fame at the best of times. I think he'd pull me out of school if he knew about Lauren's crush."

Kate wouldn't doubt it. "Do you know Lauren's parents pretty well?"

"We'd been best friends since I was in kindergarten. I've slept over at her house; she's been to mine."

"What does her dad do?"

Alexis rubbed a finger around the rim of her glass, looking nervous. "Something on Wall Street. Why?"

"Because I bet he's not home very often. And I bet Lauren's got a sister, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, an older sister. She's like the perfect one in the family. Smart, funny. Everyone at school loves her. She's a year older than us, and I just got a chance to know her really well this year. We've even hung out some. She and her boyfriend were walking with our group when we left school; they were talking to Ashley."

Kate nodded; it made even more sense now. "It sounds like she's just jealous of you, Alexis. Jealous of your attention. You've got a boyfriend, so you spend less time with her. And now, what time you do have, you're spending it with her older sister, who I bet gets a lot more attention than she does. Her dad isn't around, so she's looking for that acceptance and feeling of femininity that should come from a healthy relationship with her father. So she's kissing boys for beers; she's fixated on your dad."

Alexis looked thoughtfully at the piece of chocolate she held in her hand. "That kinda makes sense. You might be right."

"But she probably doesn't know how to go about getting the good kind of attention. So she does all this bad stuff-drinking, teasing you, being mean. She's looking for your attention, for a guy's attention. So this stuff about your dad-that won't stop if she keeps getting attention for it. She'll just keep doing bad stuff, trying to get your attention, your dad's, her own father's. She'll push it more and more." Kate was actually glad that she could talk to Alexis; she wished someone had explained this to her when *she* was being the stupid one, the one looking for attention.

Alexis put the chocolate back on her plate and glanced anxiously over at Kate. She chewed on her lower lip for a minute and then said softly, "If I tell you something bad I did, you won't arrest me, will you?"


	11. Chapter 11

When Captain Montgomery walked into Gail Connors's office, Castle rose to meet him with a handshake. If the Captain was at all surprised by seeing Richard Castle in the council member's inner sanctum, he didn't show it. Instead he took the chair offered to him by the gesture of Gail's hand and waited for the payoff.

"Captain Montgomery, thank you for coming. I know it's almost dinner time."

"That's fine. Anything to help the City Council."

Castle shifted in his chair, anxious to get going, and jumped right into it. "Detective Beckett told me I wasn't supposed to follow her anymore. She said that she was up before a review board, that it had to do with the dirty bomb. She said she was under fire."

Montgomery bowed his head for a moment, but raised his eyes to meet Castle's. "I asked her to let you know. If I came to you myself, it would look like I was agreeing with the review board, that you put our team in danger. Saying that the mayor told me to do it. . .that's not going to help me either."

Castle hadn't thought about the fact that Captain Montgomery's job was also on the line here. "I know that you weren't thrilled about me being at the precinct, but I understand you've got a job to do."

"Maybe at one time, Castle. But I think you're good for Detective Beckett. I think you make her slow down, consider all the angles. The fact that you like to jump to conclusions makes her go in the opposite direction. Her solve rate has gone up since you showed up here."

Castle smiled, but Connors brought the conversation back on topic. "I'm glad to see you boys are playing nice; that's good. As I told Richard, I do have some concerns about what a civilian is allowed to do while supposedly being an observer only. We don't have guidelines in place, and that's something I think needs to be addressed. There are a lot of Miranda rights' violations that a civilian doesn't have to worry about."

"And if that's the focus of this review board, I'm okay with that." Castle interjected, lifting his hands as if surrendering to Gail's higher authority. "That's no problem. My concern is with Detective Beckett."

"Mine as well," Montgomery said. "And our whole department. The mayor wanted good PR for the NYPD and I think having Castle along does that. The cops out there get a better reception when Castle is along. I don't want Detective Beckett's name getting dragged through the mud because *I* was following orders."

Gail regarded them equally, then started in with their real purpose for this meeting. "But here's the thing, Captain. This idea of yours-that we're out to get Detective Beckett-is completely not true. In fact, I have the list of scheduled questions right here, and while it's true the detective is on the list of those called to testify, she is not being targeted."

Gail stood up and took a file from her desk, then passed the printed list over to Montgomery. The Captain took it from her and read it quickly, a frown forming on his face. "This isn't what I received."

"But I sent this to your Chief of Police, Captain. I hand-delivered it."

"This isn't the list he gave me," Montgomery insisted, shaking his head.

Castle leaned forward. "Someone has their own agenda here. What good is it to submit a fake list of questions for a hearing?"

"Someone wants you gone?" Montgomery asked, looking at Castle. Then his face cleared as he considered the ramifications of the paper in his hands. "Or someone wants me to put pressure on you both. Someone wants Beckett gone."

"But for what reason?" Connors stepped in, sitting back down in her chair again. "This person can't hope to actually accomplish that goal. Unless they have a council member on their side. Unless they can actually subvert the true purpose of our review. And I don't see how that's likely."

"What about the co-chair, Mrs. Connors? Can't he submit a new schedule?"

Gail looked to Castle to answer that one. Rick jumped in. "Gail called Mr. Waites while I was sitting here, put him on speaker phone. He didn't send out that list. He didn't know anything about it. He was just as concerned as we are about what the true purpose is here."

"We need to find out where this fake list came from," Connors added. "We need to find out if it was the Chief of Police himself who supplied you with a bogus list, or if someone gave it to him. Now, Castle seems to be certain the Chief of Police was involved-"

"That's only because he's got the opportunity, and because his office has cropped up before, in other investigations. I mean, if this were a novel, the Chief of Police is in it up to his eyeballs."

Montgomery shot Castle a glare and rounded on him. "Castle, I've known that man my entire career."

"I'm just saying. There's more going on here than we know yet."

"Just because the office might have been corrupt during Beckett's mother's time, it doesn't mean he is. Not him."

"Doesn't mean he didn't inherit those issues. Doesn't mean he's not still working with whoever this mystery Dragon is."

"What Dragon?" Connors asked, shooting a sharp look to Castle. "What are you talking about?"

"Detective Beckett's mother was murdered 12 years ago. The lead detective on that case, Raglan, was murdered earlier this year. When Detective Beckett started looking into it, we found the hired killer, but we never got any information out of him about his employer. Another police officer at the time, McAllister, wouldn't cough it up either, even though he was involved in the police corruption at that time."

Connors narrowed her eyes. "We heard something about that. This council started a big clean-up of the city's police department after that. So that was your Detective Beckett who uncovered some of the key players in their kidnap and ransom game?"

Captain Montgomery nodded, but Castle leaped in to continue his story. "See, McAllister told us we didn't want to know the name of the person orchestrating it; he was afraid. And we *do* know that there were 3 kidnappers-Raglan, McAllister, and a mystery third person. McAllister told us we didn't want to wake the sleeping dragon. Since then, between us, we've called this man the Dragon. Beckett doesn't think it's a cop, but who else could have that kind of power? I still say it's the Chief of Police."

Gail interrupted him. "So 12 years ago, you had cops kidnapping mafia members-"

"No, actually, that was 19 years ago. Beckett's mother was looking into those cases again 12 years ago."

"Almost twenty years has gone by, and now Detective Beckett starts stirring things up, finding out new information, getting people arrested-"

"McAllister is currently serving time for his involvement." Montgomery added, fingering the list he still held in his hands.

Connors nodded. "McAllister is in jail. This hitman you found-he's in jail too?"

"He is. Beckett goes out there every other week to have a go at him," Montgomery confessed.

Castle did a double-take. "She does what?"

"You didn't know that?"

He hadn't known. "No." Why hadn't she asked him to go with her? Why had she kept that from him?

"She has her ways, Castle. It seems like a fool's errand. But if Beckett keeps coming, then maybe one day he spills."

"She's putting pressure on whoever this Dragon is," Gail said softly, staring into space as she thought. "She's stirring things up. They're going to try to take care of that."

Castle rubbed the side of his face, tried to recover from the Captain's information. "And this review board, my involvement in the dirty bomb, that's just a convenient excuse for the Dragon's real agenda."

"But you just said it wouldn't work," Montgomery said, offering the list of questions back to Connors. "Your questions have nothing to do with ruining Beckett's career."

"Mine don't, no. Waites's don't either. But if one of the other council members is involved. . .or if someone has gotten to them, put ideas in their heads. . .there's nothing I can do. I can set the tone of the review board, but the other eight members have every right to ask additional questions. They just usually don't."

"Then we need to find out where this fake list came from," Castle said suddenly, standing up like he could do something about it right now.

Connors nodded at him. "And you need to do it before we call Detective Beckett."

Montgomery stood as well. "That's Monday morning."

Gail sighed and stood with the three of them, her face grim. "Then it looks like you have a busy weekend, boys."


	12. Chapter 12

Alexis watched the detective hesitate over her chocolate while her own heart pounded out of her chest. She couldn't believe she was about to tell a police officer about what had happened. But she always had this compulsion to confess; she did it to her father all the time. She couldn't keep secrets from him. She didn't want to keep secrets.

Finally, Beckett gave her a long look. "I won't arrest you, Alexis. Whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me."

Alexis was mortified to find that her hands were shaking. She shoved them under her thighs and took a deep breath. "About a week ago, me and my friends were out shopping. We went into this little boutique and Lauren. . .Lauren convinced them to shoplift." She raised her eyes to gauge Kate's reaction.

Her face was still, composed, pointedly not judgmental.

Alexis frowned and looked at her knees. "I should've said something. I should've done something. But I was just so afraid, Kate." She had to chew on her lip to keep from crying. Chew furiously. "I was afraid that if I protested too much, someone would catch them. And they're my friends. Or that I'd get in trouble even though I hadn't done anything. And I was afraid of what Lauren might do if I went against her."

She stopped, taking another breath now that she was done. She wanted to throw up, she was so nervous. Kate was going to be so disappointed. She didn't want Kate's opinion to matter so much, but it did. It mattered. She hated that about herself sometimes, that she depended upon people like this. She wished she were as independent as Kate. As self-contained.

Alexis finally got the courage to look up. The woman was studying her, making Alexis blush and duck her head.

"Alexis."

Alexis looked up again; Kate's eyes were hard. She felt her heart pounding, her stomach churning.

"Alexis, if the girls you're hanging out with are stealing, then I think you need to seriously reconsider your friendships."

Her heart dropped.

"Stealing is a Class C misdemeanor, but if the value of the item you stole is over a certain dollar amount, it can pop it up to a Class B. The first kind gets you an informal juvenile court resolution, meaning no hearing. About 40 hours of community service, 6 months of supervision, write an essay. But if you're at a boutique, and you're in a group of girls who steal say $600 worth of merchandise, you can be held accountable for all of that. You could end up dealing with a felony charge if you've stolen over a certain dollar amount."

She chewed on her lip and blinked through tears. "I didn't steal anything," she whispered.

Kate didn't seem to hear her. "A felony charge as a juvenile is bad enough, but what if this happens after you turn 18, Alexis? What if your friends are doing it and *not* telling you, and you're just shopping, and all of the sudden you get arrested?"

She swallowed hard and tried not to let everyone in Dylan's see her crying. She was suddenly grateful that they were at the end of the bar, that the bar was at the back of the candy store. "I don't know. I didn't know what to do."

Kate reached over and squeezed her arm, trying to get her attention. "I know it's scary. I want you to be scared, Alexis. I want you to realize how serious this is."

Alexis felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Alexis, you're a smart girl. You've got your pick of colleges. But can you imagine having to tell a college that you got arrested for shoplifting? And why? Can you imagine telling them that you were arrested simply because you were standing there? Because you didn't walk away, because you let them do it? I know you don't want to do that."

She nodded because she didn't know what else to do, because her heart was twisted and she didn't know how to make it right.

"These girls. . .Lauren. . .she is not your friend, Alexis. I'd hate to see you get in trouble, in bad trouble, just because you feel loyal to a girl who is not only messed up, but also self-destructive."

"But I've known Lauren my whole life," she whispered, scraping her nail across the back of her hand, trying to keep it together a little longer. "She's been my best friend. I don't. . .I can't just abandon her. I didn't even tell my dad it was her, Kate."

Kate grabbed her hand, stilled it against the countertop with a quick squeeze. "I'm not saying she deserves to be abandoned. I'm saying that it's better if you're careful. You should tell your dad-"

"No!" Alexis jerked her hand back and clutched it to her chest.

"Alexis."

"I can't. If I do that, Dad will call her parents. She'll get in huge trouble and-"

"Alexis. I need you to stop and think about yourself for a moment. You're a very sweet girl; you always think about other people. Considerate."

"You make it sound awful," Alexis said, trying to smile, but failing.

"It's not awful; it's very good. It's just that you're still a teenager; you haven't seen how bad things can get. And that's a good thing. I don't want you to learn that before you have to, Alexis. But I do want you to be smart about this. I think that if you tell your Dad, then you've got someone to be accountable to, someone who can keep you going when it gets hard to stand up to her."

"But aren't I accountable to you? I mean, I just told you-"

"Alexis, I'm not your parent."

Wow. That hurt more than it should have. Alexis pressed her palm to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment, surprised at how painful something could be even when she thought she'd inured herself to it. Meredith's laissez faire attitude towards mothering had desensitized her towards bonding moments, towards anything that might appear on the surface to be quality time (it was never quality time with her mother). She didn't usually let people into her world. And yet, here was Detective Beckett.

"No, no you're not," she said evenly, and was pleased with how steady her voice sounded. She nodded to herself, steeled her resolve, and met the detective's eyes. "You're not my parent."

* * *

><p>Kate winced. That had gone entirely wrong. Alexis's eyes were brimming with hurt; she knew it was her fault. She'd gotten off track.<p>

"That came out wrong, Alexis."

"No, you're right."

"Alexis." Kate said with a sigh. She reached out and took the girl's hands from against her chest, brought them into her lap, pulling Alexis closer. "You can tell me anything. I will do my best to hold you accountable." She tried grinning at the girl, but it fell flat.

"I guess I just felt guilty. I probably felt I had to tell someone in authority." Alexis was trying to work her hands free.

Kate squeezed those hands tighter. She couldn't forget the girl's heartfelt story at the coffee shop a few months ago. Alexis was still waiting up for her mother, still that little girl, expectant and adoring. And Kate had just wounded that little girl. "You don't have to do this, Alexis. I'm here. I will be here. Any time you have a question, any time you need to confess."

"Thank you."

Still formal, still stiff. Kate would have to work to regain that trust again. "I need you to understand me though. Alexis, what you're dealing with is a big deal. Lauren is on a bad path, a self-destructive path. I don't want to see your life screwed up just because you're trying to be her friend."

"I'll be careful."

Kate kept ahold of Alexis's hands, but leaned back to give her a little bit of space, to regroup herself and figure out a new tack. She had been so close to getting in her head, so close. Kate was a trained investigator; she made criminals confess routinely. She should be able to do this. It was about trust here. She had to regain Alexis's trust, and all within a matter of minutes.

"It was me that left this morning. From your loft. That's what you heard."

Alexis's jaw dropped, but a grin split her face after that, her eyes shining.

"We just stayed up talking, Alexis. It's not what you think."

"If it's not what I think, the why'd you tell me?"

Kate let Alexis's hands go, not so sure that her own confession was a good idea, but the girl was clearly happier. "Because you do have a right to know. He's your dad."

"That's assuming there's something going on." And when Kate didn't say anything right away: "Is there something going on?"

And so she took a leap.

"Something."


	13. Chapter 13

Castle said good-bye to Montgomery, promising to come into the station shortly, and took a cab to the address his daughter had texted him. Montgomery said he'd text Beckett, but Castle himself would have to tell her what they were up to. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The cab stopped outside a place called Dylan's on Fifth Avenue. The text told him to come to the back, so he got out and opened the front doors, grinning slowly as he saw the collection of candy inside. Yeah, this was his kind of place.

When he could finally avert his eyes from the display cases of various gummy items-they had gummy spiders!-he saw Alexis and Kate standing by a spinning rack of lollipops. Kate had her phone in hand and a rueful look on her face, which meant that Montgomery had summoned her already. She looked soft, though, with her hair framing her face in waves, not at all like the woman he'd met three years ago. She'd been hot then, of course, always, but now she was irresistible, alluring, pulling him in with nothing but black pants and a white v-neck shirt. And those eyes which saw him, all of him.

"Kate. Montgomery is looking for you," he said. "But it can wait a bit."

Kate glanced at her phone. "He said within the hour."

"We'll go together." He pleaded her with his eyes, and she relented in a moment.

Alexis had an arm through Kate's and she moved forward to grab her father's hand. "Don't you love this place?"

"What is it?"

"Dylan's Candy Bar. Kate found it. It's so cool. You've got to come order something."

"Are those Pop Rocks?" He dragged both women with him to the counter display of retro gift baskets. "Ooh, look at this. Fun Dip! I love these!"

Kate was grinning, Alexis was grinning even more, and he had the idea it was about more than just his obvious love for candy. "What?"

Alexis grinned even wider, if that was even possible. "I talked with Kate." That she called the detective 'Kate' was something else entirely.

Kate rolled her eyes and tried to pull away from both of them, but Rick grabbed her sleeve and raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew that Kate was supposed to be talking to his daughter about the shoplifting, but Alexis looked a little too thrilled.

"You talked with Kate about what?"

"Nothing, Castle."

"I told her about Lauren."

"Lauren?" Castle switched his glance to his daughter, probing for the truth with his eyes.

"She. . .she was the ringleader," Alexis admitted, shifting a look to Kate and then back. "Kate told me I should tell you. I don't want her to get in trouble Dad, but maybe. . .maybe it's a good idea if she does."

Rick absorbed this miraculous change of heart with shock, watching his daughter blush. "Lauren was the one who convinced the others to shoplift."

"Yeah. I don't think Paige and Harper would've done it on their own. And Kate made me realize that they're in trouble too, that it could hurt them as much as me, if Lauren gets us caught. And it seems kinda obvious now that she wants to get caught. She keeps doing really stupid stuff."

"I'm going to have to tell her parents. You know that, right Alexis?"

Alexis winced and cut her eyes to Kate. "I know. Kate?"

Interestingly, Kate nodded as if to say _I got this_. "How about you go grab us a seat so your dad can order, and I'll talk to him."

Castle raised an eyebrow, but Alexis left with a smile. He turned on Kate the very next second. "She's been crying. You made my daughter cry."

Kate's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"You made her cry, yet she's looking at you like you've hung the moon. Exactly how did you do that?"

"How did you know she'd been crying?"

"She's my daughter, Kate. I can always tell. So what did you say to her?"

* * *

><p>Kate took his arm and led him away from the front doors, trying to figure out the best way to explain. "I did make her cry. I'm sorry."<p>

"You're lucky I like you so much. I've been known to rearrange someone's face for my making my daughter cry."

She laughed, but he lowered an eyebrow at her as if to say he wasn't joking. And he might not be. "She told me about something at school, about one of her friends, and that led to her disclosing the shoplifting. I was trying to scare the crap out of her, like you suggested. And I think it was working. And then I made a huge mistake and nearly blew the whole thing."

"What did you say?"

She waved him off, completely unwilling to go there, and leaned against the floor to ceiling window overlooking Fifth Avenue. "She closed up on me, tuned me out. I lost her trust because I said the exact wrong thing. I knew I needed to get her trust back, so I volunteered some information."

He leaned forward a little, waiting for her to finish, but when she didn't, Castle frowned at her. "And?"

"And then she agreed to tell you who it was; she said that I was right-Lauren was on a self-destructive path and could take out more than just herself next time. I showed her that she needed to worry about her other friends as well, and Lauren's older sister and boyfriend, even Ashley, because it was obvious that Lauren was going to bring as many people down with her as she could. We had a good conversation."

"You skipped the best part," he whined. "What juicy details did you share that got her to open up?"

"That's not the best part, Castle." She gave him a saucy grin and waited only half a beat for the stunned silly look to clear off his face and his curiosity get the best of him.

"Ooh, what's the best part?"

"The reason we got onto the whole conversation about shoplifting in the first place."

"And what's the reason?"

"She told me that her friend Lauren has a huge crush on you."

He gagged and put a hand over his mouth, casting a baleful glare in her direction. Kate grinned and crossed her arms over chest. "Lauren thinks you're her knight in shining armor, that you're going to rescue her from all her problems. Alexis says she talks about you all the time."

"Oh God."

"Exactly."

"No. No, no no." Castle put his hands up as if to ward her off. "How has this happened?"

"As amusing as this is," Kate said, resting a hand on his arm to get his attention. "It's actually a pretty big problem for Alexis. Lauren's been teasing her at school, trying to sabotage her relationship with Ashley, and driving away Alexis's friends."

"I knew about the thing with Ashley. But if she-" Castle made a retching motion with his shoulders "-if she likes me, why is she tormenting my daughter?"

"Because she's jealous. Because she thinks Alexis has the perfect life and she's trying to take her place. She's going after all of Alexis's relationships. It's actually very sad, Castle. She's desperate for attention, but she's seeking all the wrong kinds. My guess is that her dad doesn't even notice her until she's in trouble, and then he's off again."

Castle rubbed both hands down his face. "Yeah, that's what I remember of her parents. Her mom stays at home, Dad works on Wall Street. Mom calls Dad in to do the disciplining. He usually yells a lot, grounds them. Nothing more."

"Lauren's only going to kick it up a notch when she stops getting the attention she wants. I told Alexis to ignore her, but honestly Castle, I don't think that's going to work."

"Oh man, this is a problem I don't even have the brain cells to figure out today."

Kate shot him a sharp glance, taking in the stubble across his jaw and yesterday's suit still on him. "What have you been doing?"

"That's what Montgomery and I were going to talk to you about, but it'll keep. Come help me with my daughter for the next thirty minutes or so. Then we can figure out your problem."

"My problem?" she hissed as he began walking away from her. "Castle!"

But he kept on walking.


	14. Chapter 14

The murder board was now headed "The Case of the Purloined Letter" in Castle's blocky script, despite Beckett pointing out that it wasn't a letter, and it hadn't been stolen. Castle just couldn't give up the Poe literary reference. Of course, now Esposito and Ryan had taken to calling the faked schedule the "PL" so the name had stuck.

Beckett chewed on her lower lip and studied the board. They were still working on nailing down the timeline. Montgomery was asking a few questions of the Chief of Police, subtly if possible, because he had received the list of questions two weeks ago. Which irritated Beckett. She hadn't gotten word that it would be her head on the chopping block until two days later. How nice of him to sit on that information.

"Doesn't make him our guy," she muttered to herself, tapping the expo marker against her chin.

Castle walked over with another cup of coffee, and she took it mindlessly, moving it to her mouth to sip. Castle scolded her and stuck his hand over the top of her mug, making her lips glance off the back of his fingers. She jerked away, spilling coffee.

"What the hell?"

"That's hot," he yelped, and jerked his hand away the moment he could get it free.

"What were you doing?"

"It's still hot. You were going to burn the inside of your mouth doing that," Castle whined, wincing as he flung coffee drops off his scalded fingers.

"So instead you stuck your hand in it?"

He glared at her and nursed his hand against his chest. "I'm going to run some cold water over my third degree burns here."

Castle huffed off, but Kate's lips quirked at the edges as she set her coffee mug down on her desk. He'd just stuck his hand in between her and her coffee (which he should seriously know better than to do) but it was kind of sweet. Castle did a lot of things like that. And even though he'd been pouting as he left, she'd seen the smile in his eyes.

Esposito came running up, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Okay, got the sign-in sheet from two weeks ago. Chief of Police told Captain the new list was messengered; let's see if I can corroborate that story."

"Ryan get back yet?"

"Not yet. He texted to say he had two more council members on his list."

She nodded, but she was itching to get at that information. Because Detective Beckett herself was the focus of the review board's new set of questions, she couldn't very well go around interviewing council members. But Ryan could; she wished it was getting done faster though.

"Also, Fallon called a few minutes ago," she told Esposito, nodding to the phone at her desk. "He said he's got some information from his contacts at Homeland Security. Apparently, they knew nothing about the review board; none of them have gotten the summons for questioning."

Castle walked in on that last part, wiping his hands off on a paper towel. "Yeah, that is seriously weird."

Esposito shrugged. "Could be some top dog over there didn't want their federal guys getting interviewed by city government. Makes sense he wouldn't pass that invitation along, right?"

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "That could be true. I want to sit down with Fallon and pick his brain about this, but he's staying out of it."

"He needs a Batphone," Castle grumbled, sitting down next to Beckett on her desk. "That would make things easier."

"How's the hand, Castle?"

"It will heal. . .given time and tender loving care," he retorted, raising an eyebrow suggestively and causing Esposito to cough conspicuously.

Kate gave the other detective a glare, and Esposito found a reason to leave. With a quick look at the mostly empty station, Kate scooted closer to him on the desk and gently took Castle's hand between her own, smoothing his fingers out with her thumbs, tracing the lines of his palm. She felt him go still beside her, felt the intensity of his focus on the top of her head, and brought his hand to her lips for a whisper of a kiss. "All better?"

Castle's hand closed around her thumbs. "Kate."

"Before I picked up Alexis, I talked to Josh," she said, gently disengaging and taking a purposeful sip from her coffee mug. The air between them cleared, slowly, as if the sun were burning off the fog in her brain. "That's over. It's been over."

Castle said nothing, but cupped his palm at the back of her knee, pressing their thighs together on the desk where they sat.

"I know you and I have a lot to talk about, Castle. . .but I can't do that now, not here."

Instead of pouting like she expected, he nodded and took a furtive glance around the room. "We get this done first," he said, his voice like sandpaper. He motioned between them. "And then we get *this* done."

* * *

><p>Alexis ignored the text message from Lauren-fifth message in at least ten minutes-and tried to concentrate on her homework. Truthfully, ignoring her friend was less difficult than she had expected, mostly because Lauren's behavior lately had scared her. Alexis just hadn't realized how badly Lauren had been scaring her until Kate brought it out into the open.<p>

She hated pre-Calculus, but if she was going to take that AP class next year for college credit, then she had to learn this stuff, no memorizing the formulas to skate through. She had all the odd numbered problems to do for homework tonight; Ashley had a lacrosse game she wanted to make it to. It was easier to ignore Lauren when she was so busy herself, and could probably beg off. Paige would be harder to convince.

What she hadn't told Kate, or her Dad, was that Paige had begun enthusiastically supporting their crazy leader. Kess and Harper were just buddies, followers, but Paige got ideas of her own. When Paige and Lauren were together, they were usually a riot. They fed off each other, hatched even crazier plots. A few years ago, it had been funny things. Sometimes a prank that went too far. It was Lauren and Paige that led the paintball wars with the freshman class during homecoming. It was Lauren and Paige who had let crickets free in all of the girls' bathrooms. It was Lauren and Paige who had all night Gossip Girls marathons and instigated food fights and taught her how to drive the Vespa.

Now it was drinking games and beer pong. Now it was a tattoo and clubs they shouldn't have been able to get into. Now it was shoplifting and that guy with the pierced lip who lurked a few blocks down from school and walked Paige. . .somewhere. It wasn't home they were going to every day. Lauren might be grossly crushing on Alexis's dad, Lauren might be Stepmom, but it was with Paige that things got tilted so crazily.

Alexis didn't know if she should be doing something about it, or if it was just how things were. Paige wasn't one of the girls who shoplifted that afternoon; Alexis had never seen her do it, nor heard her talk about it. Lauren *was* being self-destructive and vindictive at the same time. Paige was having fun. Paige *was* fun.

Wasn't she? Even if it was fun with the boy from public school, even if it was fun at a drinking party every night of the weekend. Alexis just wasn't sure, that was the problem. Paige's fun hadn't hurt Alexis yet, and she couldn't really see it doing that. Alexis spent so much time with Ashley that Paige's brand of fun hadn't seemed all that close, or relevant.

After Kate's talk at Dylan's this afternoon, Alexis wasn't sure about that. Was it Alexis's responsibility to tell someone when Paige did this kind of thing? She was pretty sure that Paige's parents had no idea about the boy. Or the not walking straight home. Lauren was the one who skipped classes here and there; Lauren was the one bringing a water bottle filled with orange juice and vodka to first period. Paige was fine, wasn't she?

She just didn't know. Her instinct was to leave it alone, it had nothing to do with her. When her father acted out, when he'd been in his writing slump for the last three years before meeting Detective Beckett, Alexis had left it alone. She'd told herself to ride it out and everything would be okay, and she'd been right. People got better, people figured things out. Paige would grow up.

Her phone vibrated again, and Alexis saw it was Ashley. Lacrosse game in forty minutes, did she want him to pick her up?

_Yes._

Ashley would pick her up, then after the game, they'd go get takeout somewhere. She had money from her dad; she'd pile Ashley's backpack down with takeout, bring it all to the precinct like her father had asked. Ashley would complain that his bag smelled like Chinese or Thai for the rest of the semester and she'd smile, because he was hers.

Like her Dad and Kate. They were going to be late working on a case; they'd be hungry. The food was a good surprise. Like Kate's answer this afternoon, to the point and blunt, of course, but a good surprise. Alexis remembered the look on Kate's face when her dad had walked through the doors of the candy bar: like things had just gotten easier, like her dad was the steam valve for all this tension she carried around. Alexis had seen the way women looked at her father, all kinds of ways, but she had never seen that. Never a sense that things were better just because her father was there.

She glanced to her phone to check the time. She'd have to get to the rest of this homework later. She needed to change out of her school uniform into some jeans, maybe that new purple shirt that Ash had commented on. Her converse shoes because the field would no doubt be muddy.

She made herself forget about Paige.


	15. Chapter 15

Ryan had them all tearing out of the station within seconds of his phone call. Esposito manned the board, but Beckett and Rick threaded their way through late evening traffic to make it to the councilman's office with the computer tech guy in tow before the offices closed up for the day. Mike sat in the back of the Crown Vic with a hand on the bag containing his gear, silent and waiting.

Rick held on as she slid through a turn and revved the engine, gunning it to make the light at the next block. Ryan had interviewed the all council members in the hopes of running down a lead on who had sent out the fake set of questions. Following emailed memos, cc'd and bcc'd all over town, Ryan had finally discovered the first councilman to receive a set of fake questions that *hadn't* been forwarded. Mike was hopefully going to work his magic and discover where it originated.

"I'm still not getting a lawyer," she growled. "It's a review board. They censure you. It's not criminal charges."

Rick held on tighter as they went through a yellow light.

Of the eight council members on the review board, only four had gotten the new questions. Or at least, only four had owned up to receiving them. All four had emails in their inboxes with Councilwoman Connors's name at the top, forwarded to them by someone who had been conveniently leaking information. These four city leaders had assumed the review board was in fact a secret agenda to expose the NYPD but hadn't been willing to step up and publicly denounce the idea; hatchet-wielding vigilantes existed across the political spectrum and no one had figured out on his own just why Connors might want to do this.

Upon further investigation by Ryan, the aide or staffer who had leaked this information didn't exist; she didn't work for anyone on the council's review board and the email account didn't exist. But the members who had been given this faulty information were all of the idea that heads should roll, that someone had to be responsible for the terrible hole in the city's anti-terrorist security. Which was probably the point in sending the list to those specific council members.

"It plants the idea in their heads, anyway," Rick said softly.

Kate snorted. "The idea that I'm incompetent? That I don't know how to make a rational decision? Did you read those questions, Castle? They asked about my past, about my mother, about how that affects me on the job-"

"I read those questions." He spoke softly and tried to ignore Mike breathing in the back seat. "And that's the problem, Kate. People have read those questions. These council members might feel badly that they've been played, given a false set, but now they've got the idea in their heads that you're somehow to blame. They've got the seeds of an ideal; these are the guys who will most likely be against you in the first place-"

"You think I don't know that?"

"I think you're burying your head in the sand."

"Castle, of the two of us, I'm not the one with my head in the sand."

He clamped his jaw shut and stared out the window, feeling his heart pound. He felt that he needed to be on his best behavior. This was just so fragile, he thought, and he wasn't sure they could handle having this review board questioning the very basis of their relationship. To be honest, Rick wasn't sure that Kate could handle it. He'd have no problem himself; he'd be defensive and bullying right back, of course, but it wouldn't make him doubt her.

And then he caught the lie in his own head. Ah, wasn't he doubting her already? Yes. That was exactly what he'd been doing. And she'd probably felt that, guessed it, back at the station. It was the only reason he could see for her throwing him a bone like that. _Hang in there, kid, we'll get through this._

"What I'm trying to say is, I think our goal is too small. I think we need to stop the entire review board. Even if we find out who sent these emails. . .I have a bad feeling it's not anyone important, just some staffer given $100 to email a goofy list. He's not going to be able to describe who told him to do it; it'll be a dead end. Because this is about more than just railroading you, Kate."

"Like that's not enough?"

He shot a glance back at Mike, still silent and waiting in the back seat (did the man even open his mouth if he wasn't also staring at a computer screen?), then plunged into it with her. "I think it's about your mom's case."

Kate's stillness was the kind he never liked: a closing door that would not open again. He'd faced that slamming door when he'd had to tell her about digging into her mother's murder the first time, and he'd faced that closed expression when he'd offered his help. He'd seen it time and again, and Castle was getting weary of it. Weary of that stillness, the economy of movement, the flat affect, the way her whole body denied him.

"Kate."

"Let me just. . .let me. . ." She shook her head, and this time he saw something in that stillness he'd never noticed before. She was afraid. She was afraid of what would happen to her when she opened that case back up again, afraid of the way her mother's picture on the cover of the file folder curled with age, afraid that going down that rabbit hole again meant losing herself, _losing_.

So he did the only thing he could: Rick Castle took her hand from the steering wheel and cradled it with his own, like she had done for him in the station minutes before. He couldn't kiss her without Mike seeing, but he could press his thumbs into the center of her palm and curl her fingers around it; he could hold her now tightly fisted hand with one of his own, his fingers encompassing, dwarfing hers, wrapping her up.

"Paper wins," he said.

And she laughed; completely against her will he saw, but she laughed. Her fist eased.

"I guess, be glad I'm not scissors," she said.

* * *

><p>Alexis didn't know a thing about lacrosse. Well, she knew that they all got these wicked looking sticks with stiff nets at the end, and they wore masks like catchers in baseball, and they tried to carry the little rubber ball from one end of the field to the other and score a goal. The rules escaped her. Ash was an attacker, because he was quick, and he had told her: <em>Think Harry Potter<em>. She'd read all the books, enough to understand Quidditch decently, (kind of), and she knew that Ash was supposed to score. He got beat up an awful lot for it, though.

Today, she'd brought an insulated sack with a couple of ice packs in it, just in case. The late evening light was brutal, but she was wearing her favorite pair of sunglasses, the round white ones with rhinestones. Kate had been wearing a pair of tortoise-shell sunglasses that Alexis had really liked; the shape was interesting. She had been stuck on these large, movie star looking things, but Kate's were classy, sophisticated. And she'd had this really beautiful light grey blouse with pink pearl buttons down the front, short-sleeved and maybe silk, the collar and cuffs with these small, pink ruffles. Alexis didn't have the guts to ask to borrow it, but maybe she could find something similar.

She almost leaned forward to ask Paige and Lauren if they wanted to go shopping this weekend, but she stopped short with a faint sense of unease. At Alexis's feet, Lauren was painting her nails a pale mint green, not paying too much attention. Paige sat in beside her cheering loudly, while her strange boyfriend slumped at the top of the bleachers, arms spread to either side like he was Edward Cullen incarnate, waiting for Bella to quit playing with the humans.

Alexis sniffed and turned back to watch the game. She liked to see Ash play, true, but she liked to see them all play. The ruthlessness of the game appealed to her. She figured it was the part of her she'd inherited from her father (strange as that seemed). Richard Castle wrote about death and murder and bodies; Alexis Castle was attracted to brutal plays and body checks. When Ash came limping off the field with the sweat pouring from his face, dirt smeared up one side, smelling like sun and earth and male-

Alexis wasn't turned on by the bruises; she was turned on by the all-out male aggression, the unleashed joy of battling it out. And when Ash scored again for Marlowe Prep, her heart soared, and she was on her feet with true enthusiasm, screaming her head off. To her right, Kess cheered alongside her, pushing her sunglasses up to get a better look.

"Chaz with the assist," she grinned, and high-fived Alexis. Kessler's boyfriend Chaz was a middie, whatever that meant, and had passed the ball to Ash for the goal.

"They make a great team," she agreed and they clapped as the two teams reset for face-off. Face-off. Again, another term she knew but didn't know. She'd read wikipedia articles and Ash's Lacrosse magazine and tried, she really had, but it was like someone had thrown together football, soccer, and whatever else at hand. Hockey. They had penalty boxes; she remembered that.

The two girls sat back down and Paige leaned back to smack both their legs in congrats. "What hot, sweaty boys you have." Lauren snorted loudly, her cackle echoing down the field.

Alexis and Kessler laughed, sharing a look, but Alexis felt a snarl beneath Paige's words she'd not noticed before, and a spitefulness in Lauren's laugh she'd never heard. Or maybe she had, subconsciously, and the knowledge had only come out after talking with Kate.

She smiled to herself as Kessler screamed a Shakespearean insult at the guy going after Chaz (Kess took the Shakespeare elective last semester and positively loved the insults; she brought them out for every game). Kess and Harper were such good friends that Alexis had never really tried to get to know either of them much better. But she wished now she had. Because she'd like to lean over to Kess and say, _Hey guess what? I think Kate really likes my dad. And I really like Kate._

Alexis knew it was a little pathetic, but she really didn't care anymore. Kate had been both incredibly understanding and really scary, in the same hour, and Alexis had never had anyone tell her, point blank, that she was wrong. Oh, of course her father had told her no before. She'd gotten her hand slapped at school. She'd been given rules, broken them, and gotten in trouble. Of course she had. But in the last few years, Alexis hadn't really done anything majorly wrong, hadn't made trouble. And she had honestly felt she was right about not telling her father who was involved with the shoplifting thing; she'd thought that being disloyal to a friend would be the highest dishonor.

But.

But Kate had asked, Hadn't Lauren betrayed Alexis first by shoplifting? Hadn't it been Lauren who hadn't been a loyal friend by putting Alexis in that position?

Kate had a point. Kate cared what happened to her. And Kate. . .Kate was _Kate_. As much as it pained Alexis to admit it, Kate meant something to her. Maybe it was because it was so obvious that her father held Detective Beckett in high esteem. Maybe it was because so few people penetrated their inner world. Maybe it was because, in the few times Alexis had spent one-on-one with Kate, the woman had seemed so much like her, but with more control, more poise, more certainty.

Whatever it was, Alexis wanted to be closer to Kate, wanted to know her, to ask her questions and listen to her answers. She wanted to call her and ask her out for coffee and have them both sit with their shoes off, feet curled up under them, and bask in the sun with their fingers curled around their cups.

She realized with a sharp clutch of her breath that she wished, she really wished, that Kate would say yes to her father. Whatever he asked. Dinner, date, a movie. Going steady. Life. Forever. Whatever the question, she wanted very badly for Kate to be the answer. And she wanted to still be around to see it, to get the benefits of it. If they waited until she was gone to college. . .there would be so much Alexis would miss.

All the things she had already missed but hadn't realized, for so long now, that she missed them.


	16. Chapter 16

The sketch artist spent a frustrating hour with their sole witness, Vince Reese, a paralegal who had been given a list of questions via messenger service about fifteen days ago. Reese had the receipt, which Esposito had already attempted to track down: a fake as well. The messenger service didn't exist. Reese had pretty much no memory of the bike messenger except to say that the guy hadn't been wearing a helmet, which he'd thought strange at the time.

So pretty much, a guy had walked in off the streets and managed to get all the way to Reese's office, the anteroom of one of the more prestigious law offices in Manhattan, where he had hand delivered a new schedule for the upcoming review board. Reese, a paralegal to a team of defense lawyers, saw an opportunity to publicize what had become a highly secretive event: the city council's closed door review board.

Upon meeting Detective Beckett in the flesh, Vince Reese had shook her hand enthusiastically and declared what a crime it was that she was being served up to slaughter. Did she need representation, because he knew a few hundred guys. . .

To which, Rick had raised an eyebrow pointedly. She had ignored them both and stomped off.

Okay, he was exaggerating; she never stomped. She'd left Esposito in charge of the sketch artist and Reese, and she'd gone to the break room for more coffee. Castle had watched her go and wisely thought it best to leave her alone.

Mike, the IT specialist for the NYPD, was making a list of all the email addresses the false questions had gone out to. When he was done, they'd know how many people throughout the city had gotten this false information.

From his position inside the interview room, Castle saw Ryan sign for a flat 8.5x11 envelope. The irony didn't escape him. The police officer, once certain the the evidence chain had been handed over, left Ryan to it. Castle watched him through the glass, saw his face as he opened it up and pulled out a thick stack of paper. Ryan glanced to the break room, pressed a hand to his tie as if he was smoothing it into place, then hesitantly got up from his desk. Castle got up as well, moved to the doorway, waiting.

Ryan wouldn't go in. He held the list in his hands, nervously pacing outside the break room door as Castle watched from his spot at the interview room's threshold. The sketch artist was deliberating the finer points of eye shape with Esposito while Reese shrugged and said he just couldn't be sure. It was so quick. He just signed for a package from the city council; he did that all day long anyway.

Finally, Castle took pity on Ryan and walked over to him, plucking the list out of the man's hands. "Tell me."

Ryan's face was shuttered, hard. "Three hundred and thirteen people."

Castle wilted. 313 people. All of them, now, had the seed planted in their minds that Beckett had somehow not done enough, that she was emotional and unstable, that her integrity was compromised. 313 important people, who could decide the detective's fate if they brought enough weight to bear. Had the mayor gotten a copy? Not even Rick Castle could prevent 313 people from turning on the one person that mattered most to him.

"I'll do it."

Ryan gave him such a look of relief that Castle almost smiled. Almost. But the weight of 313 names of prominent city leaders and residents was too heavy in his hands. Ryan slapped him on the shoulder. "Better man than me. I'll start running down some of these, see if they've sent the list out to others, if they've been contacted by anyone. The usual."

Castle nodded and watched him go, then turned to the break room with his hands clutching the list. Detective Beckett was working the espresso machine with brutal efficiency, her face a dark cloud of impending disaster. He didn't want to tell her that 313 people were now aware that her mother's tragic murder sometimes got the best of her. He didn't want to tell her that 313 people in this city knew about the dirty bomb and how close they had come to New York's second greatest tragedy. He definitely didn't want to tell her that 313 people now wondered whether or not she was capable of making good decisions as a cop.

Because they were going to wonder all of those things. He'd had enough experience with gossip magazines to know that what got printed ended up sounding true to most everyone who read it. People couldn't help it; even when they knew better, they believed the worst. Even in his fiction book, even when he told his fans it wasn't true, people still thought those sexy scenes were based on reality. And that was just a book. This was her career. This was her life.

"Kate," he said, clearing his throat in the doorway.

She didn't jump or twitch; she must've known he was there. Castle held the pages against his chest and leaned against the door frame, watching her wait on her coffee. Her hair was in a messy bun, the kind he liked best if only because it made him fantasize about pulling it down, and her suit jacket was off so that just that silky shirt draped her toned arms. Soft on hard. It made him want her against all reason.

"Castle, you got something you need to say?"

"So many things," he said, and recovered enough to stand up and move towards her. She took her coffee, but minded the temperature this time, choosing instead to place it on the table between them.

"I'm going to need to sit down for this one, aren't I?" she said finally, after staring at his face for a long, uncomfortable moment.

He nodded.

She sat down hard, crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were belligerent. Kate Beckett in attack mode. He wanted to preserve that for as long as possible, keep her fighting this. But 313 people. He was afraid again. Back at the paralegal's office, he had begun to think that they might pull this off. They could contain the email, gather up the false set of questions, and put things to right. She'd be called before the review board and it might be embarrassing, but she'd still be a detective when the day was done. They might even convince Gail Connors to persuade the DA and his friends to leave her name off this thing, or even cancel it altogether.

Rick wasn't so certain of that outcome now; he sat down across from her, overwhelmed. He was aware that Kate Beckett needed to be a detective like most people needed sunlight. It wasn't vital to life, of course, but she had a cop's kind of seasonal affective disorder; she had to be out there, pursuing criminals and maintaining justice, in order for all to be right in her world. He was starting to panic, even in his own head, just having to face her right now with the idea of her job disappearing.

Even worse, she'd be asked to surrender her badge and gun and never return. Worse. So much, much worse.

"Rick, just spit it out."

And oh, that kind of broke his heart, his first name with that tone of forced bravery behind it.

"Mike made a list of everyone Reese sent those questions out to. Names and emails, and if possible, company affiliation. Ryan's started running them down, to see how many other people were told after that."

Her eyes were pinned to the document pressed against his chest. He felt the edge of her gaze like a knife.

"All of that?" she said, her voice flat.

"313."

"Oh God," she said, and pressed both of her hands to her face, shoulders hunched.

He was not at all sure she could survive this.

"You need a lawyer, Kate. Please, please let me get you a lawyer."

With her hands still hiding her face, she nodded. One short nod, no words, but he was already pulling out his cell phone.

* * *

><p>Alexis signed in at the duty sergeant's desk, put the date, and the name of the officer she was going up to see. She also added her father's name next to it, just in case, because she expected that this was a place where more information was always better than less. Ashley signed in below her, his backpack reeking of pad thai and tako, then they headed to the elevator.<p>

She had been here a handful of times in the last three years. She had worked in one of the evidence storage rooms for a week as a volunteer and loved it, but she hadn't seen much action. Alexis liked the bustle of the place, the cops with their hard looks or their sly grins (depending on the age usually), the occasional suspect being led to lock-up, the feel of activity and movement and importance. Ash, beside her, twitched a little, looking all too much like a suspect himself.

Marlowe Prep had won the lacrosse game, but Ash carried one of her ice packs across the swollen and bruised knuckles of his right hand. He winced with every step, but he wouldn't let her carry his backpack, despite the load.

"Dad's gonna respect the black eye," she said, giving him a grin out of the side of her mouth. "He'll think that's so cool."

"Great." Ash grunted and leaned against the elevator wall, eyeing her back. He sighed and covered his left eye with the ice pack, pressing it with his mangled-looking right hand. "I'm not up to verbal sparring with your father."

"Don't worry, you remember what he's like with Kate around. She'll draw all his attention."

Ashley grinned, making the cut on his lip split wide again. He winced. "But she also gets him back. Like, all the time. She takes him down about eighty notches. She's hot."

Alexis laughed and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his busted lip. "I love that you think that's hot."

He grunted and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against his side. He still smelled sweaty, like grass and mud, despite having showered in the guys' locker room after the lacrosse game. His cargo shorts were clean, his skater tshirt was one she knew he'd pulled from his floor (clean or not, who knew?), but he smelled like the game with a spice of soap.

"I think you're hot," he said into her ear.

"Better not let my dad catch you saying that," she grinned back, just as the elevator opened.

Alexis laced her fingers through the uninjured hand and tugged him off the lift, into the hallway. She spotted her father immediately, standing in the break room with his phone to his ear, looking down at someone sitting at the table. He looked worried. She and Ashley went inside to say hello, but she could feel it in the room, something bad, very bad, and beside her, Ash stiffened.

"Dad?"

Kate's head came up; she was wiping her eyes like she'd been crying, her face a beautiful wreck. Alexis was breathless, like someone had punched her. She dropped Ashley's hand and came to her knees beside the detective, throwing her arms around the woman.

"What did he do? I'm so sorry; whatever it was, he didn't mean it-"

Behind her, she heard her father's indignant "Hey," and in her arms, Kate was suddenly laughing. Alexis pulled back to look at her face, saw the sadness shimmering with amusement.

"I didn't do anything," her father said, in that pouty voice that made the women cuddle up to him.

Kate laughed again and wiped at her eyes, then gave Alexis a mighty hug back. "Thank you for that. Kinda made my day."

From his awkward position beside her father, Ash piped up, "Then your day must suck."

The quiet intensity fell back into place just like that, and Alexis frowned back at Ash, then her father, looking for answers. "Dad, you said to come with dinner."

"I didn't say to come in here accusing me," he muttered, attempting some levity. He moved forward, sliding his phone back into his pocket, and lifted her up from beside Kate. "She's ok. We're ok."

"It doesn't look ok," Alexis said stubbornly and caught the look her father gave Kate over her shoulder. She turned to look as well, and the desolation bruising Kate's eyes was painful. "Kate?"

And her father echoed her. "Kate." As if to say, _It's up to you_.

Both were silent, but some kind of communicating was going on between them; Alexis could see it.

Ashley took his backpack off and dropped it on a nearby table, pulling out a chair. "Well, we brought dinner. So why don't we eat, and you guys can tell us what's going on?"

Kate turned her head and finally met Alexis's eyes, a faint smile in the depths, watery and distant but it did exist. Alexis felt a little better, knowing it wasn't her father's fault, that he hadn't done something stupid, but in some way, that almost made it worse.

"Please," Alexis asked, and held out her hand to Kate.

She felt her father slide up to her back, a hand at her waist as if he thought he might need to support her, hold her up in case Kate refused her outstretched hand. But the detective grimly took it, stood up, and gave Alexis another fierce hug.

"Thank you, Alexis. Let's eat. Your dad and I can fill you in."


	17. Chapter 17

At some point in their meal, Ashley and Kate were side by side at the table while Captain Montgomery and Castle argued about legal representation in another room. Ryan was at his desk on the phone with Jenny; Esposito and Lanie baby talked in Spanish because Lanie was trying to learn (but it was mostly sexual), and Alexis was studying their murder board (she and Castle had filled them in as best they could). Ashley was more comfortable with her than Kate might have expected, but she figured that, between her and Castle, Ashley would rather be dealing with her.

Which was somewhat amusing. She rarely played good cop.

"Did a lacrosse stick bash you in the face?" she asked without preamble to throw him off his game. Just because she could. Castle might like to obviously torture Alexis's boyfriend, but Kate thought she might have some fun with it too.

She was also trying very hard to *not* think about the work they still had to do tonight.

"Naw," Ashley drawled, wincing as his lip cracked open again. It had bled off and on all night. "It was some guy's fist."

"A fight?"

A chuckle from Ash as he tilted back in his chair, hands at rest on his thighs, eyes lazy as he took in the precinct. She was glad for that at least; he'd been jumpy and nervous the first time they'd met. He had some solidness to him, a sense of ease and calm. Alexis needed a partner like that, Kate thought. She lived with a lot of drama; it might be a nice respite.

"Not a fight. A tangle up. Sticks crossed, all of us going for it. My face mask snapped off and I got pushed headlong into someone as I tried to save the ball-" Ash shrugged. "Not sure it was a fist, though it felt like it. Coulda been an elbow. It's all good, though, 'cause I passed it to Satch and he scored."

Kate's lips twitched. "And the knuckles?"

"Oh, that was a stick. The middie going for it. Me going for it. I got bashed."

"Middie?" Kate raised an eyebrow. "I know nothing about lacrosse."

"Short or long version?" he asked, looking at her with aclarity.

She smiled, fingered the knot at her right shoulder as she sat back in her chair. "Shoot for something in between."

"Midfielder gets to roam the whole field. Mostly defensive. They go after the attackers, like me, who are trying exclusively to score goals. So they come hard. They can stick check, use body contact, or just positioning to get us. And here's the best part-attackers get a short stick, middies get to use the long stick."

"Well that sounds really unfair," she laughed. "No wonder you're banged up."

"Yeah, and we won. I scored twice. When I score, I usually wind up like this."

Kate laughed again, suddenly wishing she could've seen the game. "I think I'd like lacrosse."

He grinned wide, making his lip bust open, but instead of wincing, he just sighed, grabbed the soda he'd gotten from the vending machine, and pressed it to his lip. After a second, the bleeding stopped and he put the can back on the table, glancing around. Kate looked around as well, noticed that everyone else was involved in some kind of conversation, not paying any attention to her, and she kind of liked it. She'd been the focus of their attention for too long today.

"Um, Detective Beckett?" Ash asked.

She looked over at him. "Kate."

"Kate, uh." He shrugged, like he was giving up on the struggle with himself. "I just want you to know."

Uh-oh.

"Alexis really. . .she really needs this." Ashley said quietly, hunching over in his seat.

Kate's palms began to sweat. "She needs what?"

Ashley juggled with the mostly melted ice pack across his knuckles and wouldn't quite look at her. "Uh. . .you?"

Her mouth was dry, too dry to say anything to that.

"Um. I mean, yeah. I just. . .I just want you to know that it means a lot to her. More maybe than she realizes?"

"Why are you saying this, Ashley?" It was an effort not to cross her arms over her chest. "*What* are you saying?"

"I don't know," he said, blushing up to his poor, purple and black eye. "I apologize. I shouldn't have-"

"Ash. Hey. I'm not mad." She forced herself to relax, stop being such a cop all the time. "There's nothing wrong with you telling me this. I just. I want to be clear."

His head came up, intense eyes. "Alexis likes you a lot. . .maybe more than she should. But I like her more than I should. . .which is why, I think, I can see her doing the same with you." Ashley shrugged his shoulders again, looking more and more uncomfortable with this conversation.

Well, he started it. "She likes me more than she should. You mean because I might not last."

"I think that's none of my business." Ashley spread his palms wide and winced again, shifting the ice pack on his knuckles. "I just want you to know that she means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to her."

"Ashley, you know that *you* mean a lot to her as well, right?"

He gave her a lopsided grin, careful of his lip. "Oh yes, ma'am, I know that."

She nodded. "Then I want you to know this too. . .Alexis means a lot to me as well. No matter how long I last with that one," -she jerked her thumb at Castle- "and when I say 'how long I last' I mean, no matter how long I can possibly stand him," she rolled her eyes. "But I'm not quitting on Alexis."

Ashley looked like something thick was stuck in his throat. Oh goodness, she hadn't choked him up, had she?

"Thank you," he said finally. "She deserves a good mom for a change."

Kate was speechless.

* * *

><p>"What she *needs* is a good lawyer, not some idiot from the union-"<p>

"Castle, I am not arguing with you about this." Captain Montgomery held up both hands as if he could stop Rick's words with the force of his presence. He should've known better. Not when Kate's whole career was on the line here.

"Well *I* am!"

"Castle." Roy was sharp; the fire in his eyes ignited and turned on the writer. "You listen to me. Just listen for a second. You do not know how these things work. If Kate goes into that review Monday with a lawyer that *you've* hired, that *you've* paid, she looks guilty. She looks damn guilty. She looks like you've bought and paid for her. You let the union rep sit with her; she looks like a cop."

"I haven't *bought* her-"

"I'm not saying you have. Although, in a certain slant of light, Castle, you *have.* I don't know why you can't see that. I know you respect the hell out of Beckett; she knows that. Espo and Ryan and the others, they all know that. But some pencil pusher? Some councilman who's looking to make an example of someone? They don't know that. They see your money in there, Castle, and her integrity is down the drain."

Rick rocked on his toes, scrambling for a defense against that, but coming up with nothing. Her integrity. Her integrity had to remain intact. If she came out of this at all, if she had any hope of keeping her job, she had to maintain her integrity. The Captain was right. Castle just couldn't bear to let her go in there alone on Monday.

"She needs to be protected," he said finally.

"Castle, she's a grown woman. She's a cop. If she heard you say that, she'd skin you alive."

His stomach rolled. "I know. But I'm her partner. I'm supposed to have her back." He knew he sounded desperate, grasping for a tenuous connection at best.

"Having her back is not the same as protecting her." Montgomery's gaze was so direct, Castle wasn't sure he could last.

"You and I both know we're not going to be able to stop this," he said finally. It felt like a weight was crushing his lungs: realization. She was going to be hung out to dry, and there was not a thing he could do about it. Not a thing.

"We're not," the Captain admitted.

"We can't beat an idea. We can't do battle against thoughts. I should know; I'm a writer. Once you start a rumor, it spreads, it takes hold. It becomes the truth."

Montgomery didn't avert his gaze, merely stared Castle down until he said it.

"She's going to lose her job, isn't she?"

"We're gonna try like hell to keep that from happening, Castle."

"What can I do?" he begged, his heart twisting. "Please. There has to be a way to save this."

"Castle." But Montgomery didn't continue, just shook his head.

"Gail Connors was going to call me back later tonight," Castle said, crossing his arms over his chest and absolutely refusing to give in. "I'll talk to her about canceling this. Maybe she can postpone it at least. Until we figure things out."

"Sure, Castle."

He nodded back, but they both knew it was a long shot. They both knew that no amount of pleading could change Connors's mind about the need to, at the very least, ask the hard questions about that day, the day of the dirty bomb.

If Castle could do it, he'd go back in time and stop himself from ever asking to ride-along with Detective Beckett. He'd have saved her so much of this; she'd not be about to lose the only thing that mattered to her.

She wouldn't be about to walk into a firing squad.


	18. Chapter 18

The six of them had managed to wade through only 32 names on the list when Gail Connors called Castle. Kate watched his face as he took the call, a little ticked that he'd walked out of the conference room to talk in private. This was her life hanging in the balance here. At the same time, she knew he was attempting to be polite (the rest of them were still on their own phones, or about to be, as they went through the list of names).

She knew before he did what Connors was going to say. She'd known all day.

The show must go on.

She was resolved to it. Castle was a fighter, because he was mostly an upbeat person who thought money could actually make things easier (and, well, it mostly did), but Kate was a fighter because she had fought for everything the moment her mother had been murdered. She was a fighter because life had made her into one. She wasn't always good at it, but she didn't stop.

So, knowing that the review board was going to take place no matter what didn't stop Kate. It did make her cautious. She didn't specifically identify herself to the people she called; she only took the names of people who weren't within her own parents' sphere of influence, or who she'd never have cause to come into contact with in an official capacity. Castle was calling the high and mighty, while the Captain, Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie called everyone else. Kate had managed only to ferret out three people: most everyone on Reese's list of contacts was someone who might know her already, or at least know about her.

Through the window, Kate saw Castle's shoulders hunch. She felt her heart drop and silently cursed herself for hoping. She'd been fooling herself. She hadn't meant to, but there it was. Hope, scattered to the wind.

She was suddenly glad that Castle had made Alexis leave with Ashley about an hour ago. At first, the two of them had tried to insist on staying, manning the phones or doing some kind of grunt work. Kate, fresh from her all-too-revealing conversation with Ashley, had been inclined to let them help. Not for herself, not because she thought it would help, but because she thought maybe Alexis needed it. Castle, against his better judgment, had let them stay a little while, then sent them home in the car service.

Kate wanted to go home. She wanted to ignore this all weekend and arrive for work on Monday like it wasn't the last day of her job. She wanted this to be over already, but she knew it was only beginning.

Castle came back into the room; everyone stopped and stared at him. At the shake of his head, they all dropped their phones, stopped trying. He stood in the doorway uncertainly for a moment. "Kate, can I talk to you?"

She was on her feet before she even realized he'd called her name. Oh. Damn. She was lost. Kate followed him out of the conference room and towards the bullpen. But once they were in front of the murder board, it felt wrong. She crossed her arms and tried to give him a smile. "Connors is going through with the review, isn't she?"

He nodded, once, sharply. "She also thinks it's a bad idea for you to have legal representation. She said the fact that I even asked makes you look like you have something to hide." His voice cracked.

Kate laced her fingers with his, tugging him a little closer. "It's fine. Captain said the union rep comes in and sits with you anyway."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have pushed-"

"Castle." He looked like a man struggling, and she was helpless to understand it. She wished he would smile; it would do wonders for her own outlook. "It's not your fault."

"You know that talk you didn't want to have?" he asked suddenly, and now she saw what the struggle had been about. "I want to have it. Now. Please."

She swallowed a hard lump of terror, forced it down, and squeezed his hand. "This isn't the best time for me," she joked, but stopped when his face went blank. "But okay. All right."

"Not here."

"Where?" she asked, bewildered.

"I don't want to have this conversation in the same place we talk about death." Castle turned, tugging on her hand, making his way to the elevator.

He was superstitious, the idiot. She smiled to herself and followed after him. He bypassed the elevator though, kept going until he banged his fist on the bathroom door. The women's bathroom.

She laughed. "Castle!" He was already calling out to make sure no one was inside the bathroom. The place was deserted enough; the team on call had gotten a body only twenty minutes ago and were still at the crime scene.

Castle was checking under the stalls. "Hey, you skipped ahead to page 105 in here. It has good vibes."

_Oh_, that's what she had needed. That grin across his face, the smarmy way he had that was actually so making her stomach flutter. And it made things so much harder too. "We're having this conversation in the bathroom?"

He nodded and leaned back against the row of sinks, hands supporting him on either side. He looked absolutely handsome, _ruggedly handsome_, she thought, and had a moment of stupid silliness that crested in her like a wave. Hysteria, she supposed, using the analytical, cop side of her brain. She was finally losing it.

"Okay, talk," he said.

"You first."

"Josh called you."

"That's done," she said with a frown, waving her hand at him.

He nodded. "And this? Us?"

"You're going to make me put it all out there first?"

"Yes. I think it's only fair."

She raised an eyebrow. "How is it fair?"

"I've been saying for years how I want to-"

"Castle, *that* is not the same thing."

"It's close."

"Not enough." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"I don't want you to go there, Monday," he said suddenly. "I don't want you to go in there alone. I don't want to not see you all weekend and then have to wonder all Monday morning, and then debate with myself over whether or not I even have the right to call you and find out how it went, and berate myself the whole way to your apartment because you wouldn't pick up your phone but still head out to your place because, *still*, I have to see you, Kate-"

She enveloped him in a hug before he managed to even finish that. Whatever it was. A rant. A plea. Desperation; it felt like desperation and she hated that. His arms came around her and pressed tightly against her ribs, like he could absorb her into himself. She took a deep breath, gathering herself, caught a whiff of detergent and sweat. Did he do his own laundry? She didn't even know.

"Castle."

"Please."

She huffed a laugh and stepped back, needing space to speak. "I don't want to not see you all weekend either. I'd better see you all weekend." She waited until that had sunk in, let him revel in it a moment. "You better come with me on Monday, keep me from running away. You better hand-deliver me to that review board. You better stay with me, Castle."

She saw him swallow hard. "Always."

Kate smiled back and went in for the kill, hating herself a little. "I'm going to lose my job, Castle."

"No." Insistent. With heat.

"I think so," she answered, furrowing her brow to keep tears from collecting. Her head throbbed holding it in. "It's going to be. . .I'm not going to be so good. I'm going to be a pretty awful person, I think, Castle. Not nice at all." She was trying to keep it light, because she knew it sounded like a death knell for them but it wasn't. She knew how much her heart could take, knew how much this could stand up under, and she wasn't worried that she'd change her mind. "I'm not going to *want* to be good."

"No. _Kate_-" He could see it in her face.

"I'm going to need to be alone, Castle. I'm sorry. I know it's not fair to you-"

"Please, Kate."

She sucked in a shaky breath. "It's not a no. It's not even a maybe. It's a yes, it's going to always be a yes, but-"

"I don't want a 'but' Kate Beckett. I want _you_." She could feel each one of his fingers around her upper arms.

"I know," she whispered and stepped back again, breaking his hold. "I know that. But it's all I've got right now. I'm going to lose all that I am on Monday and I don't know what happens to Detective Beckett without the Detective."

"We can find it together," he said, still insistent, fierce, his eyes like flint.

"We could, but I'd never know what it meant on my own." She shook her head, knowing she wasn't explaining it right. "They've yanked the rug out from under me, Castle. I've got to figure out how to stand on my own two feet before I let you do it to me too."

"I don't want to do that. I'm not going to do that. Let me catch you, Kate."

"That's not me, then, is it? Caught? I don't know who that would be, but it wouldn't be me." She felt her hands shaking and pressed them against her thighs. She cut her eyes to the bathroom door to keep from seeing his face. He was going to torture her with those puppy eyes. "Please let me have this, Castle."

He was silent for so long she wondered if she'd finally broken them. She bit the inside of her cheek until she was sure she could control herself, then looked at him again. His head was down; his hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard his fingers were white.

She wanted to touch him but was afraid he wouldn't survive it.

He finally took in a long, uneven breath and looked up at her. She didn't look away; she owed him that much. "You said you wanted to see me this weekend."

"Yes," she whispered, unable to keep the joy out of her voice, finally feeling some small amount of hope flare in her chest. "Please. I need that. . .you."

"I don't understand."

Her heart flipped. "Please let me be with you this weekend." She didn't know how to be more honest. She wasn't trying to play games; she was trying to make it all clear. She was trying to save him from the hurt she knew she'd inflict on him after Monday's inevitable outcome. She was going to rage; she was going to weep; she was going to be a bitch; she was going to be unmade. She couldn't help it. She was going to need to be alone to lick her wounds and reassemble her soul from whatever remained. She didn't know how to be anything but an NYPD officer. The one thing she *did* know? She wasn't going to stop feeling this way about him.

"I don't understand, Kate."

"You've already got me," she said, frowning at him to keep from breaking up. "There's nothing left to do. Nothing but this. Please."

He met her eyes, and she saw the wound she'd inflicted. She prayed it wasn't a mortal wound.

"All right," he said finally. "Then you've got me too." A pause as he took another ragged breath. "Always."

* * *

><p>end.<p>

read the conclusion to this series in the third installment: Try Again.

hopefully, posted tomorrow. thank you for all your amazing encouragement.


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